


Not Another Thirty-One Days

by venea_taur



Category: Salvation (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anxiety, Combat Stress Fatigue, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Panic Attack, Suicidal Thoughts, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venea_taur/pseuds/venea_taur
Summary: A collection of stories based on the Whumptober 2018 prompts. (Note: Prompts 1-4 were written for Musketeers and won't appear here.)Story 1: Darius is captured by pro-Bennett supporters and faces torture.Story 2: AU: Darius has been arrested and put in the dungeon again for practicing magic, leaving Harris to try to get him out before the King executes him.Story 3: After the secret mission to England is done, Liam finds that Darius isn't operating at one hundred percent. Now if he could only get Darius to realize the same.Tags will be added as stories are added.





	1. The Trial of the Fake President

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Poisoned
> 
> This story takes place after season 2.

First and foremost, his head aches in part because they pistol-whipped him to get him here. The man wearing an American flag-themed tank top in bad need of shower and breath mint yelling at him doesn’t help either.

“You are aware I’m not even president anymore. I have no control over anything,” Darius says with the energy of a man who’s repeated the same phrase far too many times to count, except he can because he has a photographic memory.

This time the retort earns him a stomach punch. He has to give it to this guy. He does shake it up with the hits leaving Darius guessing each time. His hands are tied behind him and then to the chair so he can’t hunch over in the aftermath of the punch to ease the growing ache. Perhaps it’s his stomach that hurts the most.

“We wouldn’t be working with the Russians and Chinese it hadn’t been for you and your lying regime. They are our enemies, not our allies.”

Darius ignores the spit that lands on him as the man rages. It’s really nothing compared to the sweat and griminess from having been held captive here for the better part of a week he thinks. He’s allowed up twice a day to use the toilet, which happens to be a bucket in the corner.

The questioning and the beatings are random. Questioning always comes with a beating, but then he supposes that’s because he’s insistent on giving the same answer each time. Beatings are sometimes separate of questioning and by someone other than the Americana man. He’s not sure what the beatings are meant to accomplish other than perhaps wear him down. What they don’t know is physical beating is nothing compared to sonic wave torture. For him, this is child’s play. It does hurt though. That he won’t deny except to Harris.

The hours and days continue on in the same way. Americana man rants and raves about the damage Darius’ regime did and how unlawful it was, blaming him for everything from looting to the not-an-asteroid to his hangnail, apparently. Throughout the beatings, Darius feels his nose break, a few ribs crack, and his left knee and right shoulder dislocate. They enjoy resetting those as he can’t contain his screams. His skin has broken in a number of places, leaving streaks and splatters of blood on him and the floor. His stomach’s no longer pained with hunger, however. No, it gave that up a couple days ago. He’s given water after his twice-daily walkarounds, which have become more difficult with a swollen knee after their poor attempts of resetting the dislocation.

Then, one day when he’s delirious with pain and what might be a fever, he’s gagged, a hood tossed over his head, which sends him into a flashback of drowning on land, miles away from a body of water and it doesn’t stop until he’s tossed in the back of a vehicle, a van he guesses by the situation and space. If he had a moment to recover from the flashback and rough landing, which leaves him with a brief period of unconsciousness, he might be wondering where he was going. As it is, the drive to wherever is rough, and he not only feels the poor road conditions in the various aches and pains of his body, he is knocked around, hitting the sides and being pushed back with a swift kick landing anywhere from his groin to his face.

The van stops suddenly, sending him to the front, hitting his already tender head. Two men pull him out by his feet. He cries out behind the gag, under the hood. Then he is taken, dragged because he can’t keep up with their pace on one leg, over more rough terrain. It’s bumpy with twigs and divots that scratch and tear up his bare feet. Despite this rough treatment and the warmth he feels emanating from him, he shivers from the cold. It is December, after all. Their nightmare year is almost over.

He hears voices, ones that are different from the hardened country twang he has been accustomed to since his capture. But he can’t make out a single voice and he doesn’t think it’s because of his condition. There’s a crowd out there and, as he’s pulled up what he thinks are steps, he suspects that he’s the main attraction.

He’s roughly sat in another chair and tied down again. His hands are tied to the chair as are his feet and a rope roughly tied around his chest, tightened down enough that he is left gasping for a breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he hears the Americana man say. “I have here, for your democratic judgment, the unlawful President Tanz.” In one sweeping movement, the hood is removed and Darius blinks against the harsh winter sun to see his apparent jury. As his vision clears, he sees it’s not a small group but a large crowd numbering in the hundreds, he thinks. And they shout various accusations at him, only a few of which he can decipher above their din: criminal, imposter, fraud.

“You, Darius Tanz, may have been able to coerce a badly injured chief justice, who you are responsible for nearly killing, into ruling in your favor but here, amongst the people you claimed to rule, you will face true justice.”

Darius knows that’s the furthest from the truth. Bennett had truly brainwashed his supporters, pitting American against American in a battle of real versus fake news. And in that wave of fake news had sprung up a rabid rebel force that had strained national guard resources country-wide well past the announcement of the Supreme Court decision and even Mackenzie’s death. Daily as President he was briefed on a new uprising and measures the national guards were taking to deal with them. The loss of hope during those 44 days he was in a coma had only stoked the anger, blaming him for the asteroid’s impending arrival. And now, the ‘facts’ are being laid bare for his trial. A farce if he’s ever known one.

The judgment, after the long list of indictments and reasoning for his guilt, is determined by the noise the crowd could produce. Americana man eggs them on for more noise, a stronger verdict he says. At first, he doesn’t understand what they are shouting out. It seems more like a cacophony than anything coherent. And then it becomes clear.

“Death to tyrants! Execute him!”

It’s then that he struggles, weakly because they’ve robbed him of his strength through the beatings and starvation.

“Look how he struggles. Even facing the will of the people, he thinks he can get away,” Americana man says. “Get him on his feet. He has crimes to pay for.”

A couple men, thick with muscle and stern-faced, cut the ropes that tie him to the chair and drag him up and away. He’s thrown face-first against a wall and starts sinking immediately. One of the men forces him upright and holds him with a rough hand on his back while the other cuts the binding on his hands. Darius feels the knife slice through the skin on his wrist. Then, he’s twisted around and his arms pulled up. His wounded shoulder screams at the movement and he passes out.

A bucket of water and sneering voice greet him on his return to consciousness.

“I always knew you were a coward. Trying to sleep through your own execution, You’re not getting off that easy, murderer,” Americana man says. Darius finds his arms secured to the wall behind him, out to the sides like a child might make a snow angel. As Americana man walks away, a cocky step to his stride, he sees the rifles and the men behind them. And though he should feel fear at the sight, he thinks instead that eight is rather overkill given it only takes a single bullet to kill and none of these people would lose a wink of sleep over having fired that bullet.

Americana man calls out the count to get the executioners ready and Darius knows from then that he’s not giving them the satisfaction of seeing him cower before his death. They will see his confident, proud look, eyes clearly looking back at them, daring them to be so bold. He straightens his back and forces the leg with the swollen knee back under him. He will not die like the coward they’ve branded him.

He prepares himself for the bullets to come as the count get closer and when the ‘fire’ call is given, he hears the sound of bullets traveling. Each hits one of eight executioners, causing them to twitch and then collapse.

“No!” Americana man looks around and Darius follows suit, looking for the source. Never so welcome has the sight of uniformed men with Harris in the lead been to him.

“Mark Lewis, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and attempted murder of Darius Tanz,” a voice says on a loudspeaker as Harris and his men advance. The crowds, proving to be as cowardly as Darius expects, flees at the sight of a military presence. It means chaos for Harris, but the team pushes through coming closer every second to the stage.

“Attempted,” Americana man aka Mark Lewis says. “There’s no attempted here. This man must die for his crimes.” Lewis pulls a gun from his waist holster and levels it at Darius.

“You don’t want to do this,” Harris says. They’re feet from the steps. “Put down the gun or we will fire.”

“Go ahead, your false president will still be dead.” Lewis takes aim and shoots twice. Then his body twitches with a bullet and falls lifeless. It might be the other way around. Darius isn’t sure because, in that second, it seems, he feels Lewis’ bullets hit him. If he thought being shot with the bulletproof shirt hurt, actually being shot is a blinding pain worse than the sonic weapon. The pain radiates, overlapping such that he isn’t sure where he’s hit from the feeling alone. He looks down at the same time Harris arrives to start getting him free.

“Get the paramedics here,” Harris shouts. He cuts Darius free, catching his dirty and bloody body as his feet seem to collapse underneath him. He lowers Darius to the floor, laying him out on his back.

“Do you have him,” Grace asks through his ear.

“Yeah, but he’s hurt. It’s bad. We need a helicopter to evacuate him from here.”

“I’ll put in the request.”

Harris grabs the black hood that’d been discarded to put pressure on one of the bullet wounds. The stomach wound is undoubtedly the worst and once he puts pressure on it, it elicits a strangled gasp from Darius. It’s strangled mostly because Harris forgot about the gag, which he unties with his free hand.

“Darius? You with me?”

“Took your time, Harris,” Darius says with a moan. He scrunches his eyes closed at the pain.

“And you have a bad habit.”

Darius opens his eyes to fix Harris with a questioning look.

“This getting captured and tortured by your enemies.”

“Not my fault.” Darius coughs and gasps at the pain.

“I know. I know.” Harris scans Darius for injuries. Cuts, bruises, a formerly dislocated shoulder and knee from the looks of it, and probably broken bones. Then there was the unnatural heat coming from the man and the loss of what muscle he’d gained after coming out of the coma.

Paramedics arrive quickly and move him aside as they assess and treat Darius with practiced ease. In short order, the gunshot wounds are pressure bandaged, oxygen is set up as is an IV with saline, EKG leads are attached accompanied by a steady beeping, and vitals are recorded. The helicopter lands not far from them and a couple paramedics come with a stretcher. Darius winces as they load him up despite their best efforts to be gentle.

“’arris,” he calls out as they’re carrying him back to the helicopter.

“You’ll be fine, Darius. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Tell ‘race…”

“I’m not your messenger. If you want to pass love messages to her, you’re going to have to do it yourself. Now, behave and make sure you stay alive to annoy me with your unabashed arrogance.”

Darius manages a slight smile and Harris squeezes his hand before letting go. He watches as Darius is secured and the helicopter takes off. He’ll pass off processing of the scene to one of the generals and then go meet up with Grace and the others. They have a waiting room to occupy.


	2. The Last Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Darius has been arrested and put in the dungeons again for practicing magic, leaving Harris to try to get him out before the King executes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put these stories out of order in part because I have about a week's worth that's not complete due to some family emergencies. But also because I wrote this the other day and can't wait to get some feedback. It's set in Camelot, though it's not a Merlin story. Merlin, Arthur and the gang aren't here. I just wanted to put a spin on the prompt, harsh climate, and thought how would Darius cope or not cope in the middle ages. I'm also bored and out of ideas for the modern setting. I've also drawn from the classic science fiction idea that goes something like all science is magic until we've sufficiently advanced. I think the only thing I do want to be clear on is that Darius is not a warlock. He's a man ahead of his time. It's not clear here, but the characters are also younger though age gaps aren't maintained. Darius and Harris are in their 20s and Liam is a teenager. Let me know if you want more in this universe. Enjoy!

Harris isn’t surprised to be interrupted from his morning training by a frantic Liam going on about how Darius landed himself in the dungeon overnight and is being threatened with execution. No, Darius being tossed in the dungeon and threatened with punishment is a regular enough occurrence that Harris doesn’t panic anymore. What he is surprised by is how soon after his last jailing this comes. Just a week and some days. Normally, the man has the common sense to put at least a few months in between them letting King Benedictus forget the last time he caught their resident warlock tinkering with magic.

Still, Harris finds himself rushing towards the dungeon with Liam in tow. Entering the dark and cold corridors of the lower floors of the castle where the dungeon is he smells the dirty, rotten air. The guards know him and who he’s come to see. He doesn’t like the hesitant looks on their faces though or the lack of complaint he’s used to hearing from Darius about the substandard living conditions and how even a healthy person could catch ill and die down here. Turning the corner, he sees the reason as he spots Darius’ normal cell. The man is lying, unmoving, on his side, bloodied and making low keening noises.

“Darius.” Harris rushes to the cell. Liam repeats his cry once he realizes the state of his mentor.

“H… ‘arris?” Darius swallows heavily, moaning as he tries to move to see who’s calling out.

“Stay still, Darius. You, Marcus, open this door,” Harris says, pointing to the nearest guard.

“The King commanded that he has no visitors, sir,” Marcus says.

“I don’t give a damn what the King says. This man is hurt and you will let me in to see him or you’ll have worse than dungeon duty.”

Marcus gives in then, opening the door with shaking hands. He’s a young man and Harris considers that he might’ve been too rough with him, but Darius is his ultimate concern. Since childhood, when Darius would come running to his house to escape from his uncle, Darius had been Harris’ concern. Neither had siblings so they became brothers out of need even though they had quite different paths into adulthood. He and Liam sink to their knees on either side of Darius once they can get in, ignoring the blood and filth on the floor.

“Darius? What happened?” Harris pulls Darius gently so that he’s on his back, moving so that his legs pillow the man’s upper body. Darius’ head comes to be nearly in his lap as Harris’ legs stretch out on the cold floor. Liam starts assessing the injuries while Harris hopes to hear something from his old friend.

“He was tortured, sir,” Marcus answers from just outside the cell where he stands awkwardly.

“Tortured? Why?” Of all the times Darius has been in the dungeons he’s never been tortured. Not when he’s in their dungeons at least. In other kingdoms, it’s happened.

“To get him to confess to practicing magic. He didn’t though. Kept saying he was a scientist and something about science being magic.”

“All science is magic until we advance sufficiently,” Harris says and sighs, looking down at Darius. “Darius, why couldn’t you just be a nice, obedient engineer instead of this eccentric scientist?”

“The King’s scheduled his execution for later today. Mid-afternoon,” Marcus says.

“But he hasn’t confessed.”

Marcus shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright, Liam. You need to go find Grace. Tell her what’s happened to Darius and that she needs to speak with the King about this.”

“You really think she’s going to be able to help? She’s not the favorite of the court anymore.” Grace had lost some of her favor since disagreeing with the King on the treatment of peasants and refusing a politically advantageous marriage but still, as his favored niece, she held his ear.

“It’s the last ditch effort, Liam. Now, go and hurry. There’s no time to lose.”

Liam hurries out, tripping over his feet some as he runs up the steps and out of sight.

“Do you have some water and a clean rag,” Harris asks.

“What’s the point? He’s going to be executed.”

“What the hell does that matter? He’s my friend and I won’t have him so dirty and bloodied. Now go find me a bucket of water and a rag and get back here.” Harris doesn’t care this time that his temper sends the young man scurrying off.

“Tsk, tsk,” Darius says weakly, giving a lopsided smile to Harris. The man’s eyes are partially opened and glazed over in fever. If they didn’t get him out of here soon, execution or not, Darius might soon succumb to his wounds. Prisoners with open wounds died quickly in the dungeons.

“Keep that smart attitude to yourself. Do you know how much trouble you’ve wound yourself up in this time?”

“The pain… does give me some in… indication.”

“Any plans for getting yourself out of it?”

“I… think I’ll leave that to you.”

“You’re so kind, you know.”

“Sir?” Marcus stands with the bucket and a rag.

“Set it down here,” Harris says, pointing to the ground next to him. Marcus sets down the bucket and hands him the rag.

“How is he,” Marcus asks hesitantly.

“How does he look?” Harris is short as he starts gently wiping at the dirt and blood on Darius’ face. The man is bruised and bloody on every visible patch and Harris is sure that if he looked underneath, he’d find more as well as some broken bones.

“Be nice… to Marcus, H… Harris,” Darius chides. “He did tell… them to stop.”

“What can I do,” Marcus asks.

“Keep an eye and ear out for anyone. Hopefully, Grace can get through to her uncle and we can get him out of here soon but if not…”

“The upstanding knight… would dare….” Darius pauses to cough, turning to his side as it pulls on his ribs. Harris tries to hold him in one place. “C…consider a jail… break.”

“Shut up, Darius. Hopefully, Grace can talk her uncle out of having you killed for doing something stupid again.”

“Not… s…stupid.” Darius takes a rattling breath. “An en’eerin’ revo’ution.”

“I’m sure and if you live out this day, you’ll have to tell me all about it. Now, really, be quiet. You’re only making yourself worse.”

Thankfully, Darius does stay quiet, though Harris suspects it has more to do with trouble breathing and increased pain than a true willingness to shut up. Harris goes back to carefully wiping away the dirt and blood, cleaning the wounds as he can see them and cataloging the severity. There are some longer, deeper cuts but they’ve slowed to a sluggish bleed until he re-opens them with his cleaning. Marcus brings him some bandages to stem the bleeding. Under his tunic, there’s more bruises and a few ribs that might be broken. They’re painful and cracked at the very least. Darius cries out and tries to move away when Harris prods too deeply.

“Just lay back, Darius. I won’t touch that area again.” Harris gently pulls Darius back, running a hand through the man’s hair to calm him. Darius does lay back, but his breathing is marred by hitches as he works through the new-found pain.

Harris thinks that Liam might return before the noon bell strikes. Marcus informs him that the execution is still set for mid-afternoon. They have three hours to go and as each one passes, with Darius growing worse and Liam not returning, Harris begins to lose hope. There’s little he can do to escape with Darius as ill as he is. Even with help, they wouldn’t be able to move fast and the trip would be extremely painful for Darius.

Shortly before three, a few knights come for Darius, one of which is Sir Hugh. The senior knight has a reputation for being a fair-minded man and Harris thinks he might be able to help. But before he can ask, Hugh shakes his head and gives him a sharp look.

“Get him on his feet,” Hugh says, voice devoid of emotion. “And be sure to shackle him.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Harris says. “He isn’t even aware of what’s going on.”

“The King has decreed that all prisoners be bound and warlocks bound both by the wrists and ankles with iron shackles.”

Harris sighs, knowing he’s hit a brick wall. The knights push him aside when he tries to help. Darius cries out as they haul him to his feet, putting heavy iron shackles around his ankles and wrists. The shackles are tied together by a chain that ensures Darius’ hands can’t rise much above his waist. The whole ensemble severely limits Darius’ movements, making the unsteady man all the more unsteady. He falls a few times before the knights grab hold of him by his arms and manhandle him up the stairs out into the courtyard where the pyre is set. Harris follows helplessly behind. Liam catches up with him as they enter the courtyard.

“Did you get a chance to talk with Grace,” Harris asks.

“Yeah, of course. And she went right away to talk with the King. I’ve been waiting for her to come back. There’s been no word since then. Not even when Sir Hugh was called in,” Liam says.

“Sir Hugh? What about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Bad. I don’t think he’s even aware of what’s going on.”

“I thought you were going to get him out.”

“He wouldn’t survive the move. He almost passed out on the way up here and he’s barely aware of anything.”

“Alycia couldn’t think of anything either.”

“Well, she’d better not show her face here or we’ll have a second execution,” Harris says.”

“Too late,” Alycia says, coming up to stand next to him. Harris looks over to see her hooded, which mostly obscures her face. “Don’t worry. The attention’s all up there. No one’s looking for me.”

Up on the still-unlit pyre, Darius has been tied to the pole, though the metal shackles remain. His head is hung and body limp, making no movements that show his awareness of his immediate predicament. The fever had been growing and Harris is sure that Darius is beyond awareness at this point, which given what’s going to happen might be the best thing for his friend.

Suddenly the crowd goes quiet and turns to look upwards where Harris realizes the King has come out to preside over the execution.

“Loyal subjects of Camelot,” he begins. “The man who stands before you has been accused of practicing magic. The penalty for such a crime is death by fire. Magic can have no chance to reclaim its terrible grip on this land.” Benedictus pauses, glancing over at Grace, who stands a few feet to his side. “My niece, your Princess Grace, has asked me to grant a pardon for this man as a gift in honor of the day of her birth. I have given this request serious consideration given the man’s crimes. My decision stands as follows. Darius, you are from this moment forward banish from Camelot never to return under pain of death. Untie him and escort him to the edges of the kingdom.” With that, the King disappears back into the castle. At the change in verdict, there’s a muttering of irritation and annoyance in the crowd while the three of them can’t believe their friend’s change in fortune. Harris looks up at Grace, who gives him an apologetic look.

“Let’s go get his stuff together,” Alycia says.

“You two are going with him,” Harris asks.

“Where else would we go,” Liam asks. “He took us in when no one would give us a chance. We owe our lives to him.” Liam and Alycia run off after that, disappearing in the disappointed crowd. They loved a good execution.

“How about you, Harris,” Hugh asks.

“What about me?” Harris keeps one eye on Darius as the guards untie him.

“You going with him?”

“I have a duty here.”

“Yes, but I think we both know that your duty to him is stronger. How many times over the last several years have you rescued him from the dungeon or saved him from some other ruler he ran afoul of?”

“A knight’s duty to look after the kingdom’s subjects.”

“Mhmm. And when you were a child?”

“The man never had any sense of self-preservation. He was lucky he could charm anyone as a child or he would’ve been in much worse trouble.”

“And how do you think he’s going to fare out there without your guidance and care?”

“I can’t leave my family.”

“Your parents are long dead as is your wife and your son has been missing for a few years.”

“He might come back. He could come with us.”

“I’ll tell him he’s welcome, but right now you have a brother to look after. We’ll take care of him, men,” Hugh tells the two guards holding Darius upright. Fortunately, they don’t question the senior knight. Between the two of them, they get Darius situated on a cart with Harris in the back to comfort him. Hugh guides the horse until they meet up with Liam and Alycia at the city gates.

“Here, take this with you.” Hugh pulls away some rocks in the corner to reveal a large bag. “It’s supplies you’ll need to treat his wounds. And this, too. Take this.” He reaches under his tunic for a small bag which looks heavy with coins. “It’s from Grace and me. It should help get you through the next several months. Look for a message in the next few months on the edges of the kingdom, near the caves. We’ll try to get you more supplies and gold to help. Okay?”

“Thank you, sir,” Harris says.

“Yes, thank you,” Liam and Alycia echo.

“Just get him better and look after yourselves. Now, go. Beyond the edge of the kingdom where you’ll be safe.”

Hugh stands and watches as the group moves out slowly. In a few hours he’ll go out himself to ensure that they’ve gone so he can faithfully report back to his king that they left the lands under his own supervision but he knows that he can trust Harris to ensure them to safety. Negotiating Darius’ release had taken a lot of work and cost them more than just a birthday gift. He wants to believe that it is worth it, a life for a life. Grace would soon lose her freedom, wedding a man she’s yet to meet. But Grace had argued that it was worth it, for Darius, for an innocent but stupid man who only sought to make life better to the detriment of no one. And if that was true, then Hugh supposed it might actually be worth it.


	3. A Friend in Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the secret mission to England is done, Liam finds that Darius isn't operating at one hundred percent. Now if he could only get Darius to realize the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Betrayed
> 
> This one takes place after “Chip off the Ol’ Block” in season 1. It might be a little AU as the timeline on the show takes a little bit of math to sort out sometimes, but in my mind it’s right after Darius goes to ‘apologize’ to Liam.

It starts with a cough he can’t quell. In the events of the last twenty-four hours, flying to England and back, setting up a covert mission to steal from his uncle, watching said mission from the safety of his Treehouse with Grace, and making his attempt at an apology to Liam, he hasn’t had the time to take any of the medicine he’d been taking to keep the coughing at bay. Between cough suppressants and ibuprofen, he’s had it under control but now it seems that his body has had enough and a single cough turns to more, leaving him hunched over on the couch, where he barely managed to get before the latest fit took over.

So, caught up in the effort to balance breathing with coughing is he that he doesn’t notice Liam’s arrival until there is a hand on his shoulder and a concerned Liam kneeling in front of him.

“Darius? TESS said you needed help. What happened?”

Darius nods his head and gives a vague thumbs up in hopes of shooing Liam away because words are too difficult for him at the moment. He might’ve made efforts to apologize to the young man, but this is too much weakness to show.

“No, no. I’m not buying that you’re okay. Okay isn’t hacking up a lung. I need to get you to the ER.”

“No,” Darius croaks in a break of the breathing-coughing battle. “No.” It’s more of a gasp now because he can’t get the air he wants even though he’s not coughing anymore.

“No?” Liam chuckles, disbelieving. “You can’t breathe, Darius.”

“Just… need a… moment.”

“Alright but hunching over like this isn’t going to help. Here.” Liam stands to find a pillow to lean against the armrest. “Lean up against this and stretch your legs out on the couch. It’ll help make breathing easier.”

Darius gives him a questioning look.

“My mom’s a nurse, but you probably already know that. Anyway, I know these types of things. Now, lay down here or I’m taking you to the ER.”

“’m fine,” Darius says but does move back to lean against the armrest. Any other day and he’d take his shoes off before he dared put them on his couch, but he’s spent. He spends the next several minutes trying to breathe normally and failing more times than he hoped for.

“That’s not helping as much as I’d hoped,” Liam says, walking back into the living room a case in hand.

“Where,” Darius asks. He never realized until now that the young man had disappeared.

“Your bathroom to find a thermometer. I’m guessing there’s one in this first aid kit.”

“I’m not sick, Liam,” Darius says quickly before another cough takes his breath.

“Mhmm. I can feel the heat coming off you without even laying a hand on you.”

“I’m fi…” Darius’ retort is cut off by another coughing fit.

“Yeah, try that one again,” Liam says blandly. In the case, Liam finds a classic digital stick thermometer, much to his surprise. He’d have thought Darius would have one of the infrared ones given his love for technology. It means that he has to wait until Darius has stopped coughing to stick the thermometer in the man’s mouth. He hopes that Darius isn’t too sick because playing nursemaid to the man isn’t how he planned on spending his night.

“Open your mouth, Darius,” he says once the latest coughing fit is over. He must catch the man off guard as he opens his mouth without protest and lets Liam stick the thermometer under his tongue. Darius coughs around it a few times but otherwise, it stays there until beeping.

“101.4, Darius,” Liam says checking the reading. “You need to be in bed.”

“No.” Darius coughs. “I need to… get back to work.”

“If you get back to work, you’re going to collapse before you get far.”

“Asteroid.”

“Yes, I know. Impending death and all but you need rest. The asteroid’s still months away.” Liam can’t believe that he’s saying that because months doesn’t seem like long enough for a planet-ending asteroid to be away.

“Just get me my medicine.” Darius points in the vague direction of one of the columns in the treehouse.

“How long have you been taking medicine for this?”

“Couple days. I’ll be fine with it, Liam.” Darius turns to sit up, putting his feet on the floor. The quick movement leaves him lightheaded and Liam, without thought, puts a hand out to hold him steady.

“Since you got back from the Pentagon, then.” Liam can’t help the irritation that seeps in. This is from the torture, whatever the torture was. No one ever told him, but he had his suspicions when Darius returned in very non-Darius clothing, coughing lightly, and holding his ribs. “You’re going to bed. Get into some comfortable clothes for sleeping and then it’s bedtime for you until you can speak more than a few words without coughing or pausing to breathe.”

“I’m fine,” Darius says loudly, pushing himself to his feet in an attempt to show his fitness. Instead, it shows his weakness as he immediately erupts in a harsh coughing fit, keeling over. Only Liam holding him keeps him from sinking to the floor. Liam holds on to him as he continues coughing, feeling the older man’s body shake and sweat with the effort.

“You ready to give in yet,” Liam asks when the fit has died down.

Darius groans and fixes him with a weak glare but doesn’t make any further protests of health.

“Good. Let’s get you to bed then. With a little rest, you’ll probably start feeling better in no time.” Liam re-positions himself so that he can sling one of Darius’ arms over his shoulder and loops his arm around Darius’ waist. Like this, Liam helps Darius into his bedroom, setting him on the bed with orders not to lay down.

“You shouldn’t sleep in those clothes,” Liam says as he walks away to find some better clothes for sleeping.

“There are sweats and t-shirts in the bottom drawer in the closet, Liam,” TESS says.

“Thanks.” Liam goes immediately to the bottom drawer where he finds a dark blue t-shirt and sweatpants with the MIT logo down one leg. He knows the man went to MIT, but to see him with the college’s paraphernalia is something else. Still, these clothes will work. He takes them back out and is surprised to find Darius still sitting up, though the terrible wheeze that accompanies his breathing is still there. Darius really needs to see a doctor, but that’s a different battle that Liam’s not ready for. If he doesn’t get better in the next 12 hours, he’ll tackle the doctor situation and perhaps call in reinforcements for persuasion.

He hands Darius the clothes with orders to put them on while he goes back out to the living room to get the first aid kit. He hopes that there might be an inhaler or something in there. There’s not, so he opts to make some tea instead. The steam should be enough to help clear out some of the wheezing and let Darius rest. In the kitchen, as the kettle is heating up, he finds a bottle of ibuprofen, a bottle of water, and a package of crackers to take back with the tea.

Even though he realizes that he shouldn’t be, he is surprised to find that Darius hasn’t quite managed to change out of his clothes. His shoes and socks are off and he’s currently tangling with the buttons on the shirt. The coughing isn’t helping much.

“Here, let me help you.” Liam sets aside the things he’s brought from the kitchen. He has to bat away Darius’ hands a few times, but eventually makes short work of the buttons and eases the shirt off of Darius. It reveals dark bruising across the width of Darius’ chest in the shape of a band. The worst is on his left side where Liam remembers him holding.

“Put your arms out in front and duck your head down,” Liam says, calculating the least painful way to get the t-shirt on. Darius obeys and Liam gets the shirt on with minimal gasps from Darius. The pants are much easier though Liam does feel a little awkward undressing the man. Still, he shoves that aside as worry for the passiveness of the man takes over. Just ten minutes ago Darius was protesting that he could work just fine and now he seems to have just given in. Perhaps he is sicker that Liam thinks.

Once comfortably dressed, Liam settles Darius under the covers, his upper body propped up with several pillows.

“I have some tea which should help with some of the tightness in your lungs,” Liam says. He hands Darius the tea, which has cooled some, but there’s still some steam coming off.

The next several minutes go far too smoothly for Liam as he gets Darius to drink the tea, eat a few crackers, take a couple ibuprofen, and settle down to sleep. Darius seems to settle, closing his eyes as he sinks into the bed a little. Liam takes the mug back to the kitchen and asks TESS if there’s a heating pad up here. She directs him to a compartment in the coffee table. He takes the heating pad to the bedroom where Darius seems to be sleeping and plugs the pad into an outlet on the nightstand.

“You don’t… have to stay, … Liam,” Darius says tiredly. “I know this is… the last place… you probably want… to be.”

“I have a heating pad here for the bruising on your chest. It might even help with the breathing.” Liam checks the temperature before settling it on Darius’ chest. He pulls one of Darius’ arms up to hold it in place.

“Liam, go.”

“Someone has to stay around to make sure that doesn’t stay on too long,” Liam says absently.

“TESS can do that. Go,… rest after your trip…. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Liam pauses. He could go. Darius gave him the pass to do so. But while he wanted to be far from here twenty minutes ago, he can’t get himself to leave. He’s only now, after meeting Uncle Nick, starting to realize some of the reasons for Darius’ behaviors. If that was the man who raised him, then there’s no wonder Darius behaves as he does. But he’s shown that he’s not incapable of change, of self-reflection. From shifting to using the Ark to merely save humanity to trying to build an Em drive and his mangled attempt at apologizing, underneath the prickly exterior it seems there’s a human being in need of friends who challenge him to be a better man.

“Get some rest, Darius,” Liam says as he settles into a chair he pulls up by the bed. “I’ll be here in case you need anything.”


	4. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harris has to contend with a malfunctioning phone during work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kidnapped
> 
> This story was meant to be amusing but I was watching the last couple episodes of season two and I got irritated with how things played out between the characters and then this happened. There's not even really whump here (sorry, I got caught up in my anger). This doesn't really fit into any timeline and isn't intended as character bashing, even though it might seem like that. I just didn't understand some decisions made and didn't agree with them. Please enjoy.

“Darius, give it back to me,” Harris says, storming into the Treehouse where Darius is examining some plans on his desk with Liam.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harris.” Darius doesn’t look up.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Now give me back my phone. I don’t even want to know why you’ve taken it or how you got it.”

“How do you even know I’m the one who has it?”

“Who else would take it? And I tracked it here. Now give it back to me. I have a lot of meetings to be in today and I can’t afford to delay getting to the Pentagon anymore.”

“Fine.” Darius sighs but takes Harris’ phone from the drawer on his desk and hands it over. Harris examines it briefly, noting that nothing looks out of the ordinary on the outside. It even unlocks to his fingerprint.

“Are there going to be any surprises on here?”

“How am I supposed to know what sort of emails and texts you get during the day,” Darius says, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’d better not find that you messed with anything.”

“Just some upgrades. Nothing harmful. I promise.”

Harris doesn’t completely believe Darius but lets it go for now because he really does have meetings to get to. His first inkling that the upgrades were not upgrades comes when he gets out of his second meeting of the morning and checks his email on the way back to his office. Before he has a chance to check the string of emails that pop up the hallway is filled with the lyrics from “I’m Too Sexy for my Shirt” and his screen is plastered with images Claire took. He doesn’t know how Darius got those photos, but he knows that it’s Darius to blame. While the lyrics are still sounding, because he can’t figure out how to turn them off, he quickly dials Darius and dashes to his office, ignoring the snickering around him.

“Darius, what the hell.”

“I’m busy working on plans, Harris. I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk. Enjoy your upgrades,” Darius says a smirk in his voice and hangs up the phone. Harris sighs and glares at his phone, which has now stopped making noise, but his background has been replaced with the posed shirtless image of him.

“Damn it, Darius.”

He shuts off his phone to save him any further surprises, calling his secretary to let her know that his cell phone is broken and will be off for the rest of the day. Then he gets to work, sorting through his emails, responding to what’s necessary, and completing reports.

Then, “I’m a Barbie Girl” sounds loudly through the office just as his secretary walks through. Grace is calling and even as he answers the call, the song continues.

“Harris? Where are you? What is that noise,” Grace asks.

“Just a gift from Darius,” Harris says with a grimace. He sees the secretary leave out of the corner of his eye and the door close, but not before he hears even more laughing.

“He got to your phone, too?”

“I don’t even know how he got a hold of it. Wait.” Harris pauses. “He got to yours as well?”

“Yes. Yesterday. It’s still acting up, but don’t worry the worst of it will only last for the day.”

“A day? Do you know what chaos his upgrades have already caused?”

“I can imagine. And don’t try getting him to take care of it. He’ll just say that he’s busy,” Grace says.

“Yeah, I got that sense when I called him earlier. Do you know why he did this? Is this just him being bored and pulling a prank?”

“No. He never said anything.”

“Well, after work I’m going over to question him. He can’t just do this. You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

“Five o’clock work?”

“A quarter after. I’ll drive us over.” Harris ends the call after that and tries to go back to work. His phone wreaks havoc with those attempts. It goes off randomly, plays tunes ranging from “Wild Thing” to “Row, Row, Row your boat.” The early afternoon is spent going from “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on repeat to his phone flashing as though it were a disco ball.

Rather than be embarrassed by his phone, he leaves it in his office when he goes to his next meeting. His secretary comes in halfway through, his phone in hand as it blares out “I’m Too Sexy for my Body.”

“You have to do something with it, sir. It won’t stop. It’s disrupting the offices.”

He thanks her, embarrassment clear as he tries to hide the phone. She leaves quickly.

“My phone has had a malfunction,” he tells the generals he’s meeting with. “I apologize for the noise and disruption.”

“Can you simply shut it off,” one of the generals asks with barely hidden irritation.

“I’ve tried. I’ve been in touch with tech support and they don’t have a solution,” Harris adds when there’s a collective sigh of irritation. “I’ll be going to see Mr. Tanz after work today to get him to find a solution.”

“Surely the phone will simply go dead soon.”

“It’s still at near a full charge. I don’t know what’s going on with it. I’m very sorry about the disruptions.”

The meeting doesn’t last long after that, especially when “The Ketchup Song” begins blaring. The generals leave quicker than the song can restart and Harris finds himself sitting at an empty table with the urge to throw his phone across the room. He won’t give Darius that satisfaction, whatever the man’s plan is in sabotaging his and Grace’s phones.

Mid-afternoon finds him back in his office, trying to work but he can’t take the racket and tries to call Darius. He gets TESS reading nursery rhymes. Because it’s better than the songs and disco lights, he lets it go on speaker. It works until his phone screams and he nearly falls out of his chair, cursing Darius all the way. Then, the Hamster Dance begins with his phone running the antiquated animation. It takes several rounds, but Harris blocks the tone out and is able to get back to work. Until the song changes and a routine quickly develops. The song repeats for a random period of time; he has timed the segments and there’s no rhyme or reason behind how long it repeats except that it’s just slightly longer than the time it takes for Harris to adjust to the tune and block it out.

By a quarter to five, he’s cursing Darius and calls Grace to meet with her early. She’s ready as her phone has apparently taken a turn for the worse again and is now blaring out “I am a gummi bear” in a variety of languages, particularly Russian.

“What the hell, Darius,” they say in near unison as they exit the elevator to the Treehouse. Darius is still at work at his drafting table. He sets his pen aside and looks up at them as they enter, hands intertwined and resting comfortably in his lap. He has an expectant look on his face.

“Do you know how much trouble you caused today with your little prank,” Harris asks.

“And for the last two days with me,” Grace says.

“What do you think you were doing? This could’ve caused a major incident.”

“Please, I planned for such occurrences. Nothing but some meetings went on with either of you today and yesterday,” Darius says.

“Why, Darius? Was this just some little prank of yours,” Harris asks.

“No, it was a plot to disrupt your lives.” Darius has a stern look.

“Disrupt our lives, why,” Grace asks.

“To get you here. Both of you.”

“You could’ve just asked nicely,” Harris says.

“Just like you nicely made sure that Liam and Alycia were taken care of when the world was coming to an end? Those two sacrificed a lot including their personal safety to protect this world and you leave them to die?” Darius stands as his voice rises in clear anger.

“And don’t forget the lack of plans for Darius,” Liam says, stepping out of the kitchen with Alycia.

“You two were supposed to go downstairs,” Darius says.

“We knew what you were up to and someone has to stand up for you, too,” Alycia says. “You were going to leave him to die when he was helpless. You two were damn lucky that he woke up when he did or you would’ve been responsible for his death.”

Harris huffs, running a hand across his mouth as he thinks. “What did you expect us to do? There were limited spaces and those were for personnel and immediate family.”

“You two got married, damn it,” Liam says. “You got married just so you could save Grace and Zoe. Surely something could’ve been done for Darius. I mean he was tortured a couple times to save this planet, he spent his life savings to build technology that would save us, he was fucking willing to die to save everyone. He’s given this planet everything and you two left him out to die.”

“Okay. So, what are we supposed to do now,” Grace asks. “What do you expect us to do? What’s done is done.”

“Yes, what’s done is done,” Darius says in a calculated tone. “Tanz Industries will continue to work with the government on the issue of the space object, but all other ventures are done. Effective immediately. Karissa sent the paperwork over just after you left.”

“Darius?” There’s a bit of fear in Grace’s question.

“And, we’re done. I’m done with the two of you. I know what the situation was and I can understand the difficulties and the need to put your daughter first but you don’t leave two of the most important scientists on the outside and keep my respect. They have more than earned a space and would’ve been more valuable than any politician you stuck down there,” Darius says emphatically.

“We’re done, too,” Alycia says. “We talked about it. You don’t leave Darius Tanz out either.”

“Darius,” Grace says, tears ready to fall.

“You made your choice, Grace. Please leave before I ask my new head of security to escort you out and if either of you wish to get in touch with me, make sure you contact Karissa first. I wish you two the happiest of lives together.” He forces as much sincerity into that as possible. He does mean it, on some level, but he still does feel for Grace.

Harris nods stoically and Grace mutters an okay before they turn to leave. At the elevator, Harris asks about the phones.

“TESS,” Darius says, hands in his pockets and a forced smile on his face.

“As you wish, Darius.” Both of the phones make a loud explosive noise and vibrate more than usual before returning to normal service. There are no thanks or goodbyes as the two leave, but when the elevator doors close on them, the three in the Treehouse let out a collective breath.

“Are you sure about cutting off everything with the government,” Liam asks. “They were your biggest income.”

“You two are far more important than contracts and money. And besides, Tanz Industries has far more credibility than the US government. I have governments and organizations across the world wanting to work with me. Money won’t be an issue. Manpower will be. And if you two are still available, you have a place here as department heads with shares in the company.”

“Yeah, of course,” Alycia says. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go and I’d rather work with family than not.”

“Me, too. What’s our first project,” Liam asks.

“Taking a break,” Darius says.

“What? We’ve been working on plans all day. You were working with us on uses for the nanotech.”

“Yes, and it will be here when we get back. I think we’ve earned a vacation. Somewhere warm and distinctly non-US?”

“I can’t,” Alycia says. “All of my information was leaked. I’m a target outside of here.”

“No, you’re not. I went to the President. I told him of your work to save the planet.”

“And he agreed?”

“After I threatened to go public with how he treated the two of you and myself, for extra measure. The minor incidents are still on your record, but the major ones that were arrestable offenses are gone. From any government. You’re free to travel and you have a brand new passport.”

“Darius… I… Thanks. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do for all you did to protect the planet. And you deserve to have a home and a country. You can become a US citizen, even, if you wish. The paperwork just needs your signature.”

Alycia is quiet for a moment as she gets her emotions under control.

“So, where’re we going,” she finally asks, smiling as she looks up at Darius and Liam.

“I’d thought the Mediterranean might be a nice change. The islands are beautiful from what I’ve been told.”

“Sounds good.”

“Liam?”

“A trip out of the country with my boss and best friend? I’m in.”

“Let’s consider us colleagues. You’ve still got some things to learn, but both of you done enough and learned enough to be considered equals.”


	5. In Need of a Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius is sick and it's only getting worse. This takes place after season two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fever
> 
> There is some discussion and references to past child abuse in this story. A lot of it is inferred and there's nothing explicit.

After everything he’s been through the last six months, from being tortured twice to being shot, Darius can’t believe that it’s this that lays him low and when Liam’s mother’s come to see her son and the work he does to boot. It’s her, Evelyn, who tells him it’s a combination of the last six months. She says that if he’d taken time off after the torture he’d probably not have been hit so hard. If he’d only taken a break to let his body rest. He scoffs at her and asks how he was supposed to do that when he was trying to save the world. She gives him water, antibiotics, and ibuprofen and tells him to rest. With a fever over 102 and an earache that rivals the headaches he got from the sonic torture, he doesn’t understand how he can rest.

“How do they deal with it,” Darius says as he lays on his side, curled up under the covers. On the side of his head, he has a heating pad, covering the ear with the infection.

“Who, Darius,” Liam asks absently.

“Children. Little humans.” Darius coughs and winces at the pain it causes. “They get these all the time and they’re so small. How do they deal with them?”

“Well, they do scream a lot,” Evelyn says.

“You two should go do something.” Darius shifts and coughs lightly, holding a hand to his chest and the other on the heating pad. “You don’t need to be here.”

“And who’s going to look after you? From what my son says, you’re not too keen on resting when you need.”

“I promise…” Darius is stopped mid-sentence with a harsh coughing fit. Liam quickly sets his laptop aside to help ease the man upright. The coughs are wet and rough and Darius has little time in between to take a breath. When he’s done, he gasps, throat and chest sore. He rubs at his aching chest, unconsciously leaning into Liam.

“Yeah, you’re fine to be here on your own,” Liam says, sarcasm mixed with concern. The older man should be resting but between the coughing, fever, and earache, he hasn’t been able to. Antibiotics and ibuprofen are doing what they can, but there’s an uphill battle they face. It was only this morning, ten hours ago, that Liam found Darius, fevered, coughing, and mumbling about cotton in his ear, on the floor of the Treehouse. TESS had alerted him when he was having breakfast with his mother. He’d tried to send her off with Jillian while he went to see to Darius, but she saw the text TESS sent and her nurse instincts kicked in.

“Let’s let him lay back down but propped up with some pillows. I think the coughing is the greater concern at this point,” Evelyn says.

“’m fine,” Darius mutters, eyes closed, hand still on his chest, though less tightly clenched.

“Mhmm. Just lie back and try to sleep. It’s still an hour before any of your medicines, so you’re going to need to try to just rest until then. Do you need anything?” Evelyn isn’t unaccustomed to looking after Liam’s friends. It’d happened on more than a few occasions when her son was growing up and he and his friends would spend hours and sometimes days working on a new project, hoping for another scientific breakthrough. More times than not, it meant coaxing determined but exhausted teenage boys into lying down for just a few minutes to rest, knowing all to well that it would quickly put them to sleep. She’ll admit that turning these skills on Darius is awkward. Though she is older than him, this man is a celebrity. But as she saw through Liam and Darius’ interactions, the two are quite good friends, much like Liam’s childhood friends.

Darius coughs, tensing in anticipation of a coughing fit that doesn’t come. Then he shakes his head.

“Get some rest then. We’ll be here if you need anything.”

“No, go.”

“Darius, shut up and get some sleep,” Liam says. The tone is sharp but not mean. It’s how they talk to each other, how Liam has learned to talk when he needs to cut through the layers Darius puts up as a buffer to the world around him. And it works. Darius mutters an okay and tries to get some rest. It’s a restless sleep that he falls into, broken only by being woken to eat a little, drink some water, and take his medicine. After a day spent complaining about the pain, sleeping is no easier. From his ear to his chest, he finds himself waking often to cough and shift, gasping in pain. One moment it seems he’s throwing the covers off, then scratching aimlessly for them. Several times, he comes back to awareness leaning against Liam at the end of yet another coughing fit.

This time he wakes to near darkness, with a stabbing in his ear and a building pressure. He yawns deeply, trying to clear it. There’s a rawness to the ear as well and he realizes that someone’s speaking to him, but he can’t make it out.

“Liam?”

“He’s sleeping in the living room,” Evelyn says. She turns a lamp on low, taking note of how much worse he looks. He’s still feverish and now his eyes are glazed. Lucidity will probably be the next to go. She can see that each breath is taken with caution and pain. “How’re you feeling?”

“My ear…”

“You’re losing your hearing in it? That’s normal with an infection. Once the antibiotics kick in, it’ll get better.”

“How did you?”

“You’re talking loud.”

“Oh.” He consciously makes his voice lower. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. While you’re awake, open up. I want to check your fever.”

“Feels worse,” Darius says before she sticks the thermometer in his mouth.

“I have a feeling that it’s gone up. It did earlier.”

“Earl’r? I don’t rem’ber…”

“You haven’t quite been with it. Now be quiet so I can get a reading.”

Darius is quiet and she thinks he might’ve fallen asleep again. He’s dozed in and out often during the night. She frowns when she sees that he’s nearly 103. Any higher and she worries that they’ll have to take him into the ER, a task which Liam has informed her is near impossible.

“Bad,” he croaks.

“Nothing we didn’t expect. Now, you need to get some more rest.”

“Doesn’t help.” Darius is silent for a moment, licking his lips before seemingly dozing off. Then. “Can’t rest. Can’t stop. Have to go.” Darius is on the move, trying to sit up but he’s weakened by the cold and doesn’t get further than halfway. She tries to ease him back down.

“You can stop, Darius. Everyone’s allowed a break every once in a while and especially when they’re as sick as you are. Just lay back and rest.” She gets him to lay back but he’s tense.

“No, no. Never. Rest is for the weak. And Tanzes aren’t weak. Strong, always strong. Of course, Uncle. Promise, just a short nap then I’ll get back to work. Just twenty minutes.”

“Rest, Darius. You can have your twenty minutes and more. The work can wait.” Evelyn keeps her voice calm but loud enough that she knows Darius will hear. She knows little of how the man grew up, but she has heard about Uncle Nick from Liam and she didn’t like the man then and definitely doesn’t like him now. That’s no way to raise a child.

For a moment, she thinks she’s gotten through. But then Darius is trying again, with almost the same mantra, though more apologies with a distinct level of fear interlaced in them. It’s clear that this time he’s seeing something rather than merely confused. There’s little she can do for him right now to bring him out of it except to comfort him and keep him as calm as possible.

“Why, Nick?” There’s a change in tone, from fear to frustration. “Don’t understand; why do this to me. Why? We’re family. Why are you hurting me? Can’t have them. No. No. No!” The final no is yelled loud enough to bring Liam running into the room. Darius for his part erupts in the worst of the coughing fits and Liam forgoes any questioning to help his mother with him. Neither of them has to tell TESS to turn the lights on.

“You have to try to breathe, Darius,” Liam says as he holds Darius upright. He feels not only the man’s fever and the struggles to breathe amidst the coughs but also the man’s weakness, his exhaustion. A few days spent fighting this cold and infection on top of a physical exhaustion from the last six months has left him with nothing to fight back with.

“Can you carry him,” Evelyn asks.

“What?” Liam gives his mom a confused look.

“I’d like to get him into the bathroom. Some steam might help. Can you carry him?”

“I might be able to.” Liam knows that Darius has struggled to put weight back on after waking from his coma. Getting back to his status quo has been difficult. That should’ve been a sign to them that he was run down.

“I’ll get the water running. If this doesn’t work, it’s going to mean an ER trip.” She heads into the bathroom leaving Liam to figure out how he’s getting Darius there.

“You think you might be able to walk a little, Darius,” he asks.

“Walk?... ‘course Uncle. T… Tanz men are… strong. A’ways.” To prove this, Darius moves, making weak attempts to get to his feet but they don’t prove successful. Liam helps him to the edge and gives him a moment to adjust to the position before pulling him to his feet. He then works an arm around Darius’ waist and loops one of Darius’ arms over his shoulder. For the first couple steps, Darius makes purposeful movements, his legs supporting him. But that dwindles the further they go and they’re not even halfway there when Liam has to fully support the older man while he gives into coughing again.

The bathroom is full of steam and Liam immediately feels uncomfortable in the heat, but if it’ll help Darius, he’ll put up with it.

“Bring him over here.” Evelyn has put a few towels on the floor by the shower. He and Evelyn ease Darius down.

Darius has little awareness of the changes around him, knowing only that he has to try to breathe. His lungs scream for another breath even as they cough with every attempt. His chest is on fire and his head light. A part of him senses that he’s not alone, not this time, but he sees Uncle Nick in front of him. The demanding face ordering him about, commanding that he stay up late to do enrichment in addition to his homework. And always with the same phrase: Tanz men are strong. They do not fail. Failure meant punishment and he quickly learned that it wasn’t the grounding his father would give him. Punishment was dark and cold with time and light only for more learning.

He tries to get up, to tell Nick that he doesn’t have to punish him this time, but he’s held down. They hold him down as Nick smirks at him.

“Just like I expected. You’re just like your father. Weak and pathetic. Not worth my time. Not worth anyone’s time.”

He promises that he’ll be good. Promises that instead of playing football after class with his friends, he’ll come straight home and study. He’ll sign up for summer classes and start to study calculus on his own. He’ll be a good boy.

“The same promises every time, Darius. How am I to believe you when you tell me you’ll always do the same things? You are fifth in your class. I expect you to be first. Once you’re first, then you’ll be a true Tanz.”

He can do that. First is easy. He could’ve been there already if he’d do all of his work and do it as he knew he was supposed to. Uncle Nick always said that friends were useless anyway. He wouldn’t have any friends once they discovered the real him.

“You listening to me, Darius?” There’s a smack. “The day you make first is the first day I’ll be proud of you.” Another smack and an explosion of pain. He cries out. Uncle Nick only ever hit him once.

Then, nothing.

“Darius, Darius.” The voice doesn’t register at first until it calls a few more times. It’s muffled, worse than before.

“’iam?” His own voice is distant. “’iam?”

“Calm down, Darius.” Liam is louder this time.

“’ick?”

“He’s not here, Darius. Can you open your eyes?”

“Hmm?”

“Open your eyes, Darius. I want to see that your arrogant self is still there.”

“Not a ‘rick?” Darius opens his eyes slowly, blinking at the light coming in through the windows and the lingering blurriness. Liam helps him to drink some water to ease his rough throat.

“Not right now but give it time. You probably will be at some point.”

“Liam, give him time to wake up before you start calling him names,” Evelyn says. He rolls his head lazily to the other side to see her.

“What happened?” He starts to realize that he’s not at home anymore. Before he gets an answer though, he’s asleep again. It’s a pattern that continues for the better part of a day until the evening when Darius is finally feeling more alert and gets Liam to answer his question.

“You’ve been very sick,” Liam says. “I know you don’t like it, but we had to bring you to the hospital. Your eardrum burst from the infection and your fever shot up and you had really bad hallucinations and you couldn’t get a breath.”

“Take a breath as well, Liam,” Evelyn says lightly. She then looks at Darius. “You’ve been here for a week.”

“A week?” His voice is rough still and the sudden knowledge of the passage of time only serves to disorient him further.

“Yes. It took a while for them to get your fever under control as well as your breathing. You really need to take better care of yourself.”

Darius nods, swallowing heavily. “Sorry,” he says hesitantly. Apologies are still a foreign concept, but this feels like an appropriate time for one. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It shouldn’t’ve. Tanz men are stronger.”

“Tanz men may be strong, but you don’t always have to be. You have to take breaks, Darius,” Evelyn says. “With your health, you can’t keep pushing yourself. I know what you’re thinking. I’ve seen it before, but you have to enjoy life, too. No one will fault you if you do.”

“But I enjoy what I do.”

“Still, take a break.”

“Oh, he will be. Alycia and I have programmed TESS to shut him out if he overworks himself.”

“You think I need TESS to figure out the math? I was solving the hummingbird problem in my head,” Darius says.

“I’ve also enlisted the others to make sure you take breaks. I think Grace is particularly interested.”

Darius nods but he’s not sure how he feels about this new set up. On one level he understands that his training was wrong, but that was his training. It’s hard to shut off the idea that work and excellence breed acceptance. People, after all, have always only liked him for what he can give them in terms of the latest and greatest technology. He’s been told that he works too much but then they ask when the next phone model is coming out or when they’ll finally have VR tech. Never once, not until Liam and the others, has someone told him to stop, that they don’t need the latest and greatest. They need him. They want him, as is and nothing more.


	6. In Search of Something to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius is severely limited as he's recovering from pneumonia and an ear infection. Liam, who finds himself on bedrest as well, tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stranded
> 
> This one continues on from yesterdays but it's not critical to have read it.

It seems fate somehow that while Darius is on bedrest following his cold that turned to pneumonia and ear infection, that Liam, too, is laid low. It’s not a cold though. He fell and sprained his knee severely and the doctor told him to stay off it and keep it elevated. Rather than be stuck in his own room alone because Jillian is back home visiting her dad and Alycia is busy running Tanz, he camps out in Darius’ room. Someone also needs to be around to keep an eye on him anyway, so it works out for the best for them all.

Currently, Darius is sleeping, which is really the safest thing for him to do. Standing, walking, and sometimes even sitting up leaves him with vertigo and subsequently nausea. When he’s most worn, even laying leaves him in such a state. If that’s not irritating enough, the ringing in his ears blocks out what he can hear in the one ear and leaves him generally unable to do anything but lay on the bed in misery.

And Liam has decided to take a page from what they’ve been telling Darius and has taken a break.

“Liam?” Darius’ voice is groggy as he stretches next to Liam on the bed. Darius was irritated at first to see that Liam would be joining him in his bed but his recovery got the better of him.

“Yep, still here.” Liam doesn’t bother glancing over, knowing that Darius won’t have opened his eyes just yet in hopes of holding off the aftereffects of his illness. Speaking louder has become second nature now. It’ll be some weeks yet before Darius’ hearing returns back to normal.

“Anything new happening?”

“You know that you’re not involved in the day-to-day business right now. You’re on leave.”

Despite being weak, Darius is still quick to anger though it is tempered by the lack of real bite to his words. “It’s still my company. You said you wouldn’t…” Darius’ face pales when he sits up too quickly. While his head spins and he’s tilting to the side, his chest heaves and lungs seize as he starts coughing. Liam sets his work aside to help Darius, first by catching him before he tilts completely. When vertigo and coughing fits come at the same time it’s always a battle to decide which is more important to deal with. Liam opts to keep Darius upright to help with the coughing because he can still remember the night in the bathroom with Darius struggling to breathe and the seconds that seemed like moments where he didn’t.

“In and out, Darius. Steady breaths.” Liam feels rather helpless just holding onto Darius as he struggles, but there’s little he can do. The inhaler won’t work with all of the coughing and neither will the nebulizer. Darius just has to deal with it, at least until the worst of the coughing is over and he can manage to take in a decent breath to get the medicine into his lungs.

Eventually, Darius starts to take deeper breaths. They’re still punctuated by coughs at times, but each cough is weaker. Now, Liam reaches for the inhaler. He removes the cap and passes it off to Darius, who quietly uses it. The effect is quick and the tension quickly leaves Darius’ body.

“How’s the spinning,” Liam asks.

“There,” Darius says irritated but exhausted.

“Why don’t you try to get some more sleep, then. It’s the best thing for you now.”

Darius nods and, with Liam’s help, slips back into his spot on the bed to return to sleep. As much as Liam knows that rest is the best thing for Darius, he’s also worried. Since taking ill and being confined to bed rest, he’s seen Darius’ mood slowly drop. Even when he was feverish with a terrible earache, they were having to keep a close eye on him to make sure he stayed in bed. But now, the man is easily resigned to his fate. It doesn’t help, he knows, that everyone else is busy. Grace and Harris are hard at work with their duties at the White House and though they call or come by, it’s infrequent and Darius is often sleeping or not up to talking. Alycia is around in the evenings, but with Tanz down its CEO and a department lead, she’s been kept busy and usually winds up dozing off in the chair or out on the couch.

Thinking, he returns to his work. He has to figure out something to get Darius occupied when he’s awake and not miserable. The man has few hobbies, which isn’t much of a surprise given what Liam’s learned from his childhood thanks to the fever-induced hallucinations.

“How’s everything going,” Alycia asks, walking into the bedroom. Her appearance catches him off-guard and he jumps, which jars his knee and makes him gasp. She quickly apologizes and moves to make sure that he’s not injured worse.

“I’m fine,” he says, swallowing through the waves of pain. “Just a little unexpected movement there.”

“Sorry,” she says again.

“Don’t. You didn’t mean to.” He clears his throat lightly. “Um, things are fine here. Just working and Darius is sleeping.”

“He’s doing that a lot.”

“Yeah, I know. But he does need the sleep. The doctor said it’s the only way he’ll start to get his energy and health back.” Liam pauses. “But I am concerned that it’s too much. He doesn’t even argue anymore.”

“That’s not his normal attitude. What ideas do you have?”

“He needs a hobby. Something that he’s willing to stay awake for at least a little bit to do that doesn’t tire him out.”

“Which excludes everything that he enjoys doing. So, any ideas?”

“You could help a little.” Liam doesn’t hide his sarcasm.

“Would you two be quiet,” Darius says and coughs lightly. “I’m trying to sleep with my ears ringing and you two keep yammering away.”

The two apologize quickly, feeling bad for having woken him.

“How’re you feeling,” Alycia asks.

“Tired of that question,” Darius grumbles.

“Alright then.” Alycia is used to his moods and this one is familiar. “How about moving around a bit then. A little walking would do your lungs some good.”

“No. Just talk quieter while I go back to sleep.” He turns lightly and pulls the covers up.

“No, you need to do something other than lying around in bed all day.” She pulls the covers back on him, causing him to groan loudly.

“I know you two think you know how to fix this, how to fix me but I’ve been taking care of myself for longer than the two of you’ve been alive and I’m still here.” He pauses to cough a few times. “So, give me a little credit for knowing what’s best for me.”

“Of course, the great Darius Tanz knows everything.” She throws her arms up and goes back to sit on Liam’s side of the bed. Liam tries to get back to work, while Alycia sits awkwardly and Darius fishes for the covers and settles back in. Neither of the miss his growing wheeze in his breathing or the increase in effort, but they don’t say anything. Darius isn’t in the mood for mother-henning at the moment. So, they leave him be, knowing that he’ll give in at some point. In his weakened state, he doesn’t last long.

He lasts longer than they think though, his anger getting the better of him. But as his coughs increase in depth and frequency until he feels like he’s breathing through a straw and the cry for help is a pitiful gasp. Liam and Alycia are at his side before he knows it. As he tries to maintain his grasp on consciousness, he watches them with blinking eyes. Alycia gets him into a sitting position, pillows at his back while Liam works on setting up the nebulizer. He doesn’t have the energy to fight them, not that he would, as Liam holds the pipe up for him to take. The cool mist is already spraying out. When he moves to take hold of the handle, Liam stops him.

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. And that is all he has to do. The room is spinning and he feels himself leaning away from Liam, into Alycia, who’s set herself up on his other side so that the two bracket him from listing. He closes his eyes and pushes aside the ringing and dizziness to get as much of the medicated mist into his lungs. Its effect is slow and as he focuses in on his breathing, he misses the concerned look Alycia and Liam pass in front of him. Alycia pulls out her phone and texts Darius’ doctor. It’s been a few weeks since Darius was released from the hospital and nothing, it seems, has gotten better. She wants to know if there’s something more they should be doing or, perhaps, if they need to wrangle him back into the hospital for a check-up.

By the time Darius completes his treatment, he’s falling back asleep and she’s heard back from the doctor. She’ll be around in a half-hour to take another look at him. They don’t bother telling Darius of the coming appointment as he’s nearly asleep and the agitation isn’t worth disturbing him.

The doctor does her best not to rouse him at first, but it doesn’t quite work. He wakes when she’s putting the pulse ox meter on his index finger.

“What’s going on?” His voice is hoarse from struggling to breathe.

“Just a checkup, Darius,” she says. “It’s been about a week since I last saw you, so I wanted to see how you were doing. Especially how severe your breathing has been. Can you sit up for me?”

It’s clear that he doesn’t want to, but he does force himself to an upright position though he nearly topples into Liam and his stomach churns so heavily, he pales and there’s an emesis basin that appears under his chin.

“’m fine,” he says lowly.

“Mhmm,” the doctor says before pulling out her stethoscope and running Darius through some breathing rounds so she can listen to his lungs. When she’s done, she leans him back against the headboard, where he unconsciously leans into Liam again. “There’s still some congestion there. Have you been moving around?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Dizzy.”

“That’s going to be around until your ear heals, but if you don’t get up and move around even a little, then you will get sick again and you’ll be confined to bed rest for even longer. At least once a day, get up and move around. Ask for help though. And then several times during the day, I want you using this spirometer. You were using one in the hospital so I know you’re familiar with it. I want you using it again to help clear your lungs.”

Darius nods, coughing and taking the plastic device from her.  

“Pulse, temperature both look good. As expected, your O2 levels are down. How long after your last breathing treatment?”

Darius looks to Alycia and Liam for an answer as he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“About half an hour,” Alycia says, standing at the side of the bed, body tense as she listens to the doctor.

“Half an hour and you’re still low. That’s not good and it’s not going to be helping you maintain your breathing to keep from having an attack. Do you still have supplemental oxygen in here?”

Coughing, Darius nods and points to the closet. “Everything’s in the… top drawer of the… dresser.”

Alycia goes in to find what’s needed, coming back out with a bag containing a nasal cannula.

“Will this work?”

“For starters. Where’s the tank, Darius.”

“Hook up is there.” He points to a spot on the wall behind him, where once Alycia looks closer, she sees that it will push aside, revealing a few different hook ups, one of which is for oxygen.

“Why do you have an oxygen hook up in your bedroom,” she asks.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Seemed like a convenient feature… and it has been. It’s far better than spending… a lonely night in the medical room.”

“It is quite convenient, Mr. Tanz. I want you on the oxygen until your numbers come up. Every hour, will one of you text me his numbers.” She looks to Liam and Alycia for confirmation that they will. “Once I’m satisfied that you can maintain a steady rate, you can come off it. Okay, Mr. Tanz.”

Darius nods and soon she’s packing up her items to leave. When she does go, he’s tired again and they don’t argue with him when he wants to sleep again. It’s been a long afternoon and it’s not done yet. Alycia eventually is called back to work, leaving Liam on his own with Darius. The man sleeps off and on for much of the afternoon, not fully waking until the sun is going down, giving the room a warm red glow.

“I apologize for my behavior, Liam. Earlier, I mean. I know that you and Alycia are merely trying to help.” Darius stays laying down, tilting his head to look at Liam, who’s sitting up, still working away.

“We’re worried, Darius. All you seem to do is sleep.”

“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.”

“Yes, but you don’t fight it anymore. You just go to sleep without us forcing you.”

“And here I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“Yes and no. It worries us because you’re not yourself, Darius.”

“And this is part of what you were discussing earlier, right?”

“Yeah.” Liam nods. “I… we…I…”

“I’m not going to bite, Liam. Don’t really have the energy for it now. Spit it out.”

“We were thinking that you needed a hobby.”

“Any ideas? You two’ve taken away everything I love doing.”

“Alycia said the same thing.”

They fall into silence, both thinking, contemplating what to say next. Then Liam sees Darius moving. It’s a bit uncoordinated and slow as Darius take several pauses to breathe deeply through the nausea and spinning, but eventually, Darius is sitting up, leaning against the backboard. Pale, sweaty with the nasal cannula running across his face, Liam thinks Darius looks far sicker than he was just a few hours ago. They’ve taken a step back. He sees Darius listing to the other side and pulls him gently by the arm to lean against him.

“You seem to be staying… well occupied on your bed rest,” Darius says. There’s a touch of rejuvenation in his voice. “What’re you doing?”

“Knitting.” Liam stops his work and holds up the sweater he’s working on.

“Knitting?”

“Yes, it’s far more complicated than you think.”

“Yes, I can see. Quite a bit of mental stimulation with the pattern, especially this one. What’s this that you’re doing?”

“It’s called stranded knitting. It’s how you can get other colors into the pattern in different shapes. This one’s a rocket launch.”

“How original, Liam. Where’s the pattern?”

“There isn’t one. I’m mean, I’ve mapped it out a little, but it’s mostly just pulling from here and there.”

Darius watches for a bit as Liam works, contemplating. Could his hand handle it? The tremors haven’t increased.

“Show me,” he finally says.

“What?” Liam looks at him.

“I need a hobby. You have a hobby there. So, teach me this knitting thing.”

“Okay.” Liam’s hesitant, not believing that it’s really that easy, but this is the first time in a few weeks that Darius has shown interest in something other than sleeping. So, he’ll take it.


	7. Tables Turned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on from the prompt betrayed, Liam spends the night looking after Darius only to find that waking up in the morning isn't the easiest. Darius steps in to take care of Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bruises
> 
> While I don't think you need to have read the story for betrayed to understand this, knowing that it's set after 'Chip off the Ol' Block' might help.

Liam wakes unsure of where he is and when he tries to move, his chest screams at him and he cries out, leaning over as he holds onto this chest. It gets worse as he moves and stalls his breathing.

“Liam? Liam, you need to breathe. It’s going to hurt, but you have to breathe.” Darius’ voice is distant and there’s coughing and clearing of his throat. He tries, he really does he tells himself, but the pain is blinding.

“Alright, then, come over here.” Darius is urging him along as he shuffles, still bent and eyes closed because the pain constricts not just his breathing but his willingness to move. The older man is warm to the touch. As he’s being urged to sit down, then lay down on his side, he remembers why he was there.

“Darius!” He tries to sit back up, but his body protests the movement.

“Yes, it’s me.” The voice is wearied but kind. “Now, just lay down.”

“No… but.”

“Liam, stop. Please.” It’s punctuated with a round of harsh coughs.

Liam stops at that. He can’t refuse the soft plea. Darius is quiet, save for the noise of him breathing, after that and so is Liam. The pain is still there and the longer he lays there, the less sharp it becomes. After several minutes, he finds that he can straighten out, though he’s slow because he’d rather not revisit that pain.

“Better, Liam?”

“Um… yeah.” He opens his eyes to try to find Darius. The older man sits in the chair in front of him rather than on the bed. And though he looks a little better than last night, it’s clear that he still is sick. Leaning over, with a hand around his chest, face pale save for the red from the fever, hair disheveled as only the sleep of sickness could do, Darius looks like he should still be in bed.

“Just stay there, Liam,” Darius says.

“But you’re sick.”

“Well, you’re not doing too well either,” Darius says breathlessly as he coughs more and winces. Liam watches as the man grasps at his chest tighter as if that alone would ease the pain.

“I think I have one up on you, though,” Liam says in a teasing voice. Darius looks up at him, a smile teasing at his lips before he breaks out into a chuckle, which is stopped quickly by a coughing fit. He bends back over, holding on to himself again. Liam starts to sit up, wincing as his chest aches. Standing, however, is impossible. When he tries, his head spins and gravity plops him back down on the bed and he holds his chest in almost a mirror of Darius.

“We’re… quite the pair, … aren’t we, Liam?”

Liam chuckles along with Darius and they both quickly regret it. It’s several minutes again before they’re both ready to consider anything other than the pain in their chests.

“What happened, Liam,” Darius asks before Liam has the chance to speak. His voice is weary but concerned.

“It’s nothing, Darius. Nothing.” Liam tries to move to show him but winces after sitting up too much. “I’m fine.”

“How much do you like your job, Liam,” Darius asks plainly.

“That’s pretty hypocritical, don’t you think? Last night you were trying to get back to work and ignore the fact that you couldn’t breathe properly.” Liam gasps as the raised voice pulls on his bruises.

“Don’t… distract, Liam. Now, what happened?”

“Just some bruises.”

“From the mission?” Darius grows more concerned.

“No, from um… the Russians.”

“Russians?”

“Croft and the EmDrive. When the Russians took it.”

“Oh.” Darius pauses for a moment, thinking. Then he looks up. “Oh. Liam, that was two days ago. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Other things were going on. Better things.” Liam shrugs his shoulders. “I was taking painkillers, so it didn’t matter.”

“Didn’t matter? Better things? Liam, you should’ve said something, especially before getting on a plane, twice.” Darius pushes himself to his feet, wincing and cursing, though Liam isn’t sure that it’s just about the continued pain. “Liam, show me the bruise.” Darius sways a little as he walks over to the bed.

“Why?”

“I want to see how bad the bruises are. If you need to see a doctor.”

“I don’t want to go to a doctor. I’m fine.”

“Who said anything about going. I have a doctor who’ll make house calls. Now, let me see or I can call her to come. She’s nice, but I’ll warn you everything tends to get worse after she sees you.”

Liam suspects that’s not quite the case, that it’s more a case of she’s called when Darius is at a breaking point and it’s only then that he truly realizes he needs help. He also suspects that the doctor would have a heart attack if Darius actually called himself.

“You’re a tech billionaire, what qualifications do you have to look at my bruises?”

“Experience. Now, let me take a look and then you can get some rest.”

“Fine.” Liam pulls up his shirt to expose the bruise.

Darius tries to kneel, but it nearly topples him. Liam reaches out quickly to grab him.

“Just sit down, Darius.” Liam tries to nudge Darius to the space next to him on the bed.

“No, no. I can make this work. Can you lean back?”

“Not comfortably,” Liam lies. “I think if you sit, you can get a good look at it. It’s on the side partly.” Thankfully, Darius gives in. Liam keeps a close watch as the man turns to sit. He winces and coughs as he sits, his body not liking the change in position. It’s a moment of breathing steadily in between coughing before Darius is ready.

“Alright, Liam. Show me this bruise.”

Reluctantly, Liam lifts his shirt. He feels Darius’ eyes on it and then a warm, light touch that makes him jump regardless.

“Sorry,” Darius says quietly.

“Well, what’s the verdict?”

“Nothing serious, especially if you’re still walking and talking two days later but it’s going to be around for a while. You should use the heating pad.”

“I will when I get back to my room. Jillian will…” Liam trails off when he remembers she won’t be there and he can’t help the sadness that comes over him.

“She’ll come back,” Darius says.

“How do you know? She was so mad that I lied to her. I’ve never seen her upset.”

“You’ve known her for a few weeks, Liam. I’m sure there’s a lot you’ve never seen her do.”

“Your point?”

“She’s had a shock. When you found out an asteroid was going to hit us, you ran around like chicken little until someone listened to you. Everyone reacts differently. She thought she was working on a colonization project not a last ditch effort to save the human race. That’s going to shake her up.”

Liam nods. “Yeah, maybe. But she was so mad.”

“Give her time, space. She’s a strong woman. She needs time to sort things out.”

“I guess.” Liam’s silent for a moment as they sit next to each other on the bed. He can hear Darius’ breathing, heavy and a little wheezy. That doctor should probably come to look at him. Darius might get pneumonia from this. “I should go,” he says because he doesn’t want to broach the doctor topic with Darius, not now.

“There is another side to the bed that hasn’t been slept and sweated on.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Do you really want to go back to your room?”

“Not really.” It’s quiet and reminds him of how badly he’s messed things up.

“Then go find something more comfortable and get into the other side of the bed. There’s a basket at the back of the closet with some new clothes.”

Liam nods and wanders off slowly to find a pair of sweats and shirt to wear. He’s not surprised that it’s Tanz merchandise. It’s comfortable though and by the time he comes back out, Darius is sitting on his side of the bed with the heating pad plugged into an outlet at the middle of the headboard.

“There’s some ibuprofen and water on the table there and then you can have some quality time with the heating pad,” Darius says. Liam nods, deciding, for now, to give into being looked after. It feels strange coming from Darius, but he’s seeing a different side to the man in the last day and feeling more like giving him a second chance. He takes two of the painkillers and climbs into the bed. Once he’s laying down, Darius hands him the heating pad for him to set in the right spot. He mutters a thanks and closes his eyes to enjoy the heat as he feels it seep into the bruised area.

“What about you,” Liam asks after several moments, dazed from the warmth the heating pad has spread. Already, it’s starting to ease the pain.

“What do you mean?” Darius isn’t quite ready to settle back down. He knows that he’s sick. He can feel the heat from the fever and each breath has a rattle to it that worries him even as he pushes it aside. There are more important things to worry about.

“Well, if I’m laying here and falling asleep despite a night of sleep, then who’s looking after you.”

“You slept in a chair, Liam. That’s hardly a night of sleep. And I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Hypocrite,” Liam says without any heat.

“No, more of do as I say, not as I do.”

“Not a child, Darius.”

“No, you’re not.”

“So, why then were you so upset that I was hurt and not yourself. I thought you’d’ve been throwing that in Harris’ face and using it to get what you wanted.”

Darius is silent for a while, long enough that Liam opens his eyes to see if he’s fallen asleep, but the man is still sitting up, staring out the windows.

“Darius?”

“A wound is just a sign that you are still imperfect,” Darius says quietly at last.

“What?”

“Nothing, Liam. We should both get some rest. There’s a lot of work to be done and this planet’s going to need two healthy, rested scientists to save it.” Darius doesn’t look at Liam, laying down in bed with little more than some coughing and an irritated sigh as he shuts his eyes to try to sleep. Liam knows well enough not to press further. He sets the timer on the heating pad, in case he falls asleep before he can shut it off.

Perhaps one day he’ll find out more about the mysteries of Darius Tanz, the man who knows everything and reveals nothing. But the longer he spends working closely with the man, the more cracks in the armor he sees and glimpses of the real Darius he gets. And each glimpse seems to come with another question, a possible or likely reason for the image projected. He has a feeling that there’s something deeply unpleasant hidden underneath the layers.


	8. Burning Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace is relieved to see Darius finally show up to a meeting after being out of contact for three weeks, but he looks worse than when she last saw him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hypothermia

Grace is surprised when Darius actually walks into the conference room for their meeting with the government officials and generals from Russia and China. As the three leading superpowers, they’ve come together to deal with the aftermath of the asteroid which left a mysterious space rock in Earth’s orbit. Her surprise isn’t because Darius is uninvited from the meeting. Instead, he is the one that has brought them together thanks to their work in Russian some months ago. The last few weeks, in fact, have been difficult to make any real progress with Darius absent either from being unavailable or too busy. Relations between the government and Tanz as well as Grace and Darius have soured as of late in the aftermath of her choices while he was in a coma. Their conversation had been civil, but he’d made his hesitations to move forward clear citing that she clearly wasn’t ready to completely be done with Harris. It meant that even before his three-week disappearance, their meetings and conversations had been sparse. The situation frustrated her because she’d chosen him in the end.

So, when Darius walks in looking pale and worn, she’s surprised. The last she’d seen of him he was finally getting back to his previous physical state before the torture and subsequent coma. He glances around and she thinks stops for a few seconds to meet her inquiring gaze but there’s nothing more in the way of a greeting. Right behind him is Liam, which isn’t a surprise. Though the young man had initially only joined Tanz to work on the asteroid problem, he quickly has become a vital member of the company and a close friend of Darius’. She suspects that he knew what Darius was doing those three weeks but had kept refusing to tell her out of loyalty to Darius.

Liam follows Darius closely, guiding him to a seat where Darius seems all too happy to be finally sitting. He looks as though he’s only here by force of will and in some ways she supposes that’s true. The president had said he was going to give Tanz an ultimatum to show up to one of these meeting or face sanctions. Seeing him now, though, she wishes that he’d not given that ultimatum. Darius doesn’t look ready or well enough to be here. What happened over the last three weeks?

The meeting begins quickly once Harris and the last of the generals arrive. Everyone notes their surprise and joy to finally see Darius at a meeting, expressing their hope for a productive meeting. Darius nods but doesn’t say anything. He carefully looks at each as they speak, eyes focusing as though thinking is a strain. With the greetings out of the way, the meeting begins in earnest. Her role is largely as a peacekeeper and sometimes advisor on rules and regulations. It means that she is able to spend her time looking around, watching the others as they speak. As she listens for any time she might need to jump in, she watches Darius. He’s listening hard, jotting down notes, which he occasionally pushes in Liam’s direction. The younger man looks at the notes and sometimes nods his agreement and other times speaks up, voicing an objection or an idea. But Darius, he remains silent even when a general makes a suggestion that she knows he’d love to say something about. She expects him to because this is what Darius does. He seems to take delight in telling generals how incompetent, narrow-minded fools they are.

But this Darius is quiet, save for the notes he passes and occasional quiet conversations he has with Liam, which apparently only serve to irritate them both. As the minutes pass and turn to an hour, she watches Darius shed first his coat, then his dress jacket and then roll up his sleeves. His face starts to gain a reddish color and she can see perspiration begin to dot his forehead and soak parts of his shirt. By the time they’re into hour two, it’s clear that something’s not right. After draining a couple glasses of water quickly, Liam takes a third from him quietly and gives him some ginger ale, which he drinks in slow sips, swallowing and breathing rhythmically.

Grace decides to bypass a quick text to Darius, sending one to Liam instead. If something is wrong, then she needs to know so she can end the meeting or find a subtle way to let Darius leave. Unfortunately, when Liam reads the text, so does Darius, who gives him the sternest look he can muster while looking like he’s sitting out in 110-degree heat. Liam gives her an apologetic look when Darius is busy with his notes. She lets the charade go on a little longer until it looks like Darius may very well collapse right there either from heat or nausea. She sends a quick message to Harris, hoping that he picks up his phone. He’s a few seats down from her, so she doesn’t see if he does but then in twenty long minutes, he speaks.

“We’ve made quite a bit of progress today,” he says. “I’d like to suggest that we wrap up the meeting for now. I know I have a meeting shortly and I’m sure others do as well.”

The suggestion is quickly taken up and the group breaks with generals and officials slowly trickling out until it’s just the four of them left.

“Darius,” Grace asks. The man seems to be just keeping his composure, which requires all of his concentration.

“Why don’t you rest a little before we head back,” Liam says quietly. Darius wordlessly agrees, folding his arms on the table and resting his head in them. It’s not a picture of Darius Grace could ever imagine seeing and it unnerves her.

“Liam, what is going on?”

“He’s not feeling well.”

“That much is clear,” Harris says. “He was fine a few weeks ago. How’d this happen? He was supposed to be working less.”

“He has been, he’s just not feeling well.” There’s an obvious missing piece to Liam’s statements. The young man has never quite mastered lying.

“What is going on, Liam?”

“I told you. He’s not feeling well. Other than that, I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Not at liberty? I know things are rocky between us, but I thought we were friends enough to know if something’s wrong.”

“Darius?” Grace kneels down next to the man, reaching out a hand to run through his hair in an attempt to comfort him but Liam stops her.

“Don’t. He’s not big on being touched right now.”

She stops and gives them both a puzzled look.

“Liam, what is going on,” she asks.

“Let’s… go,” Darius says in between careful breaths.

“Are you sure,” Liam asks, kneeling down to get a look at Darius. “You look like you could do with a little more time.”

“Home, ‘iam.” Even slurred slightly, the urgency is clear.

“Alright, let’s get going then. Just remember to take it slow. I don’t really want to pick you up off the floor again.” Liam helps Darius to carefully stand, keeping a hand on the man’s back and arm to steady him as he adjusts to the new position. Then, finally, Darius gives a subtle nod and Liam backs away while Darius takes calculated steps away from the table to leave the room. Liam grabs his jackets in one hand while keeping close to Darius.

Standing and walking clearly has a negative effect on Darius, despite what he’d like to portray. The sweating is worse than before, he sways, and his face is pale. There’s little warning that he will be throwing up but Harris is quick nonetheless to turn him towards a trash can while Liam supports him as he brings up the water and ginger ale. It’s a spectacle but the people passing by know better than to stand and gawk at Darius, especially with Harris around. It leaves them with a bubble of privacy as everyone makes an effort to find another way to get where they’re going.

When he’s done, he collapses, leaving Liam to keep him from head diving into the trash can and to make sure that he’s sitting on the floor of the Pentagon with his back against the wall, knees pulled up, and head pushed down to help with his lightheadedness.

“What is going on, Liam,” Grace asks. “You have to tell us.”

“No. No, I don’t,” Liam says, his focus not on Grace but assessing Darius’ condition. The man is close to losing consciousness and burning up. He removes an infrared thermometer from his pocket and quickly takes Darius’ temperature. At the high reading, he curses.

“Not again. TESS, call 911 and have Dr. Blint meet us at the ER,” Liam tells his phone.

There’s a short moment of silence then TESS speaks. “An ambulance will arrive in approximately seven minutes, Liam. And Dr. Blint is on her way to the ER. She’ll be there when the ambulance arrives. Should I tell her he’s had another episode?”

“Yeah. Tell her it’s happening again and just as bad.”

“It’s happening again,” Harris asks. “Liam, what’s going on? How sick is he?”

“No, I’m not telling you anything. Darius didn’t want anyone to know except those he trusted.”

“Liam,” Grace starts.

“No. Now can one of you go look for the ambulance.”

Harris reluctantly goes out, keeping an eye on Darius as he does. From then on, the afternoon passes quickly, but Harris and Grace are often frustrated by the events. Dr. Blint, Susan as Liam calls her, is protective of Darius’ medical records and what happened. All she will tell them as they sit in the waiting room is that Darius is stable, which is so vague that it brings them little comfort.

“What do you think is going on,” Grace asks Harris. The two of them sit in the waiting room of the ICU where Darius was rushed to after a short assessment in the ER. Liam is still in the room.

“I don’t know.” Harris sighs. He’s long since shed his coat jacket, trying to find some comfort as they anxiously wait.

“He seemed like he was sick but then Liam said it had happened again. Do you think this might be related to the sonic wave torture?”

“Grace, I don’t know. This speculation isn’t good. When they’re ready, they’ll come out and tell us something.”

“Really? You think they’re going to tell us what’s going on?” Grace gives him a serious look.

“Liam will then.”

“I don’t know. He’s being really secretive. The both of them are. They barely would speak to us. And he’s not even gotten in touch with us for the past month almost. Something more is going on.”

“You two… um… you two can come in if you want,” Liam says from the door. He looks haggard, more than before, but not upset. He’s more worried.

“Of course, if you’re sure,” Grace says. She and Harris grab their things and join Liam at the door where he leads them to Darius’ room.

“I don’t know what Darius would say, but I figure you two might want to see him. The doctor’s done, so it’s the best time.”

“What happened,” Harris asks.

“Not right now. I know that you want to know, but Darius was clear in not letting many people know. Just know that he’s being monitored and he’s okay. Well, as okay as he can be right now.”

“So, what can you tell us?”

“Probably a good time for just a heads up of what you’ll see.” Liam stops before they enter the room. “He’s hyperthermic. His fever’s hovering above 105 and refusing to drop, so he’s got cooling blankets and a cooled IV to try to bring it down, but it’s being stubborn. Complicating things is that he’s hallucinating. He’s tried to pull out the IVs a few times and climb out of bed, so he is restrained.”

“He didn’t seem that sick this morning,” Grace says idly. Liam ignores her and gestures for them to follow him in. There’s a nurse beside Darius’ bed checking on vitals, but he leaves shortly after they arrive. Grace believed Liam’s description of Darius, but seeing is far different from being told. Darius is connected to a number of machines and is bare-chested as they try to cool his body. That only serves to highlight the quickened pace of his chest rising as he struggles to breathe. He twitches and his eyes move under the closed eyelids as if in a dream.

“I know it looks bad and he is in serious condition,” Liam says. “He wouldn’t be in the ICU if he weren’t, but they’re optimistic. They just have to get the fever to break.”

“You don’t seem too worried,” Harris says, eyeing Liam curiously. “You seem used to this.”

Liam sighs. “I can’t tell you, but I will say that this isn’t the worst he’s been in the last month. This is, however, the most acute case.”

“I know you can’t tell us what’s going on, but he’s not doing something stupid is he? He’s making smart decisions,” Harris asks.

“Yes, he is.”

“And yet he’s gotten himself into this position,” Grace says, frustrated.

“You can leave if you want,” Liam says. He’s not in the mood to deal with their questioning of him or Darius’ actions.

“I’m just frustrated, Liam. I didn’t know he was so sick until he showed up at the meeting today and he didn’t even look at me. He barely looked at me. I don’t understand what’s going on and why we can’t know anything.”

“It’s Darius. Alycia and me have been watching him and when he’s ready to tell you two, he will. But that’s going to have to be enough for now. Okay?”

“Yes, I guess. I don’t have much of a choice though.”

Liam doesn’t bother continuing a conversation with them, settling into the chair nearest to Darius and taking his hand in his to let him know that he’s there. Darius has grown more agitated, probably in response to the discussion they’ve been having. He’s not angry. He does understand their frustration, but he’s caught. While he’s been known to disagree with Darius, this time he fully agrees with keeping this secret. He just wishes that Harris and Grace would simply accept the current situation and go with it.

The evening stretches long into the night as the three, soon four once Alycia finishes her work at Tanz. Darius’ fever remains high, climbing higher until by midnight he’s at 105.8. Darius himself has moved from hallucinations to general restlessness and hovering on the brink of unconsciousness. Still, they keep him restrained. In the early morning, he passes into unconsciousness as his fever remains persistent. Blint, back on duty after a nap, orders more tests and restricts the number of visitors to just one at a time. It’s irritating to be left out but more worrying because there seems to be no end to the fever.

Just before dawn, he has a seizure and though the nurses are quick, the restraints still bruise him before they can get them off. He is quiet after the seizure. Harris and Grace each call into work and Liam lets Karissa know that he and Alycia won’t be in the office.

The fever breaks mid afternoon leaving Darius sweating and miserable. Though the sheets are changed regularly it’s not enough for him. As he drifts back to consciousness he finds himself irritated by the lethargy and aches as well as the sweating and lingering heat from the fever.

“Hey,” Liam says, capturing Darius’ attention now that he’s more alert.

“‘iam?” Darius licks at his dry lips which shouldn’t be given the sweating. Liam helps him to drink from a cup of water. Darius thanks him and asks how long he’s been there.

“About a day,” Liam says. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Umm… A table, a room with a lot of people, I think. Grace and Harris were there.”

“Yeah.” Liam wonders how long before that meeting Darius started feeling ill. He’d been quite insistent on going to the meeting even though he’d had a rough night and should’ve stayed in bed later.

“Was it a meeting, Liam? I think there was a meeting I was supposed to be at.”

“Yes, it was a meeting and you shouldn’t’ve been there. Your body is still dealing with the aftermath of the experiment.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying on wet sheets because you’re sweating off a fever of almost 106. You collapsed at the Pentagon and spent the night hallucinating. You had a seizure. And this isn’t the first time, Darius. You need to be resting still.”

“I know, Liam. I know.” Darius sighs, shifting as he grows uncomfortable with the wet sheets. “But I had to to throw her off. She’s been calling a lot.”

“Because she’s worried, Darius. I don’t understand why you didn’t want to tell them anything. I’m glad that you eventually gave into me and Alycia’s demands to be in the know, but why cut out Harris and Grace. Is it because of the marriage and shelter stuff?”

“Some. There are things that can’t be easily forgiven, Liam. But this isn’t the first experiment I’ve undergone, Liam. It’s hard enough for me when they fail, I don’t want anyone else to get their hopes up.”

“But we all know that it’s just an experiment. It may not work.”

“I just didn’t want Grace to get her hopes up, especially since it didn’t work.”

“Well, maybe you can tell her now. Her, Harris, and Alycia are out in the waiting room.”

“Now?”

“Or when you feel up to it. I know you’re still weak and achy from the fever,” Liam says.

“Go get them. Might as well just rip the band-aid.”

Liam nods and goes to get them. Darius closes his eyes to rest while he waits. As ruffled as he was by Liam’s words about his weakness, he truly is tired. The last few weeks he’s been plagued by these fevers and each one seems to take more out of him and another comes quickly, giving him little chance to recover. Going to the meeting yesterday was probably stupid but he doesn’t like to be controlled by illness.

“Darius, you’re awake,” Harris says.

“Yeah.” Darius turns his head to look at them as they walk in, positioning themselves around the bed. His voice is still weak and gravely with sleep and illness.

“How’re you feeling,” Grace asks.

“Wet?” Darius gives them a small smile. “Tired, sore, still a bit too warm.”

“You were quite sick, so that’s no surprise.”

“Yes, and I should probably tell you what’s been going on. Liam thinks that it’s time you know.”

“Yes, I think we’d both like to know considering you’ve blocked both of us from knowing anything.”

“Not just you two. Only a very few number of people knew and for good reason. As I just told Liam, if it didn’t work I didn’t want to give anyone false hope. It’s hard enough on me when they fail.”

“They fail?” Harris takes a step forward. “Are you doing more trials for a cure?”

“Just one, Harris and it had a good chance. The best of them yet but they didn’t foresee the full side effects.”

“The fever,” Grace says.

“Fevers,” Liam corrects her, stepping forward. “Others in the trial had different side effects. Some got a fever like Darius, but he was the only one to develop into hyperthermia. Until yesterday’s episode, we thought it was getting better.”

“Is it permanent? The hyperthermia?”

“No,” Darius says, yawning. “It was a couple weeks of IV treatment, so I just have to work it out of my system. Another month, perhaps.”

“But he needs to rest,” Alycia says. “The fevers take a toll on him and if he doesn’t rest, they get harder and harder on him.”

“So, no more meetings with Russia and China,” Harris says.

“Not in person. Perhaps a video conference?”

“I don’t know. They may not take it well.”

“I’ll talk with them,” Grace says.

“They can’t know,” Darius says, an edge of worry in his voice.

“I wouldn’t tell them. I’ll explain that you’ve caught a serious case of the flu and have to rest for a few weeks. With your performance yesterday, I think it’ll be an easy sell.”

“I’m so glad I could be of service.” Darius yawns again.

“We should let you rest,” Grace says.

“Why don’t we go get some food,” Harris says.

“You guys go, I think I’ll stay here,” Alycia says.

“You sure,” Liam asks.

“Yeah, just bring me back something.” With that, they leave Darius to doze while Alycia settles in the chair Liam left near the bed. “Hey, Darius,” she says.

“Hmm?” Darius isn’t quite asleep but he feels exhaustion pulling him under.

“Are you sure it didn’t work?”

“It didn’t for anyone else. They’re classifying it as a failure and going back to the drawing board. Why?”

“Nothing. Just thinking. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it to fight off the fevers that are coming.”


	9. An Eye for an Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius was giving a press conference but now the fate of everyone in the building is in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hostage
> 
> There are discussions of suicide in this story.

Darius still isn’t quite sure how he came to be in this predicament. He’d just finished a press conference concerning the new nanotech his company is releasing when he found himself manhandled into a room. It’s been weeks since his last encounter with Bennett supporters and a few months since they’d captured and tortured him. Since then, Harris personally ensured that he had better protection and more than the usual secret service agents than past former presidents. His first thought when being roughly gagged is that it’s them again. They’ve been persistent he knows though much of it has been stopped by the secret service and additional protections he’s placed around Tanz Industries.

He comes to sitting in a chair with Kyle, one of the secret service agents assigned to him, standing in front of him, staring down, arms crossed. The agents aren’t known for their friendly appearances, but the look Kyle has is much sterner than usual.

“Wh… What’s going on,” Darius asks, feeling the muddledness of regaining consciousness.

“Shut up and listen. There’s a bomb strapped to your chest. If you do anything, I don’t have any qualms with setting it off. Now, there are about a hundred or more people out there. And not just reporters. There’s some that you care about out there.” Kyle gestures towards the door. “If that bomb goes off, it’ll take them out too. Tanz Industries will be dust as will everyone inside.”

“What do you want?” Darius hides the growing panic. Grace and Liam were at the press conference and Alycia is working elsewhere in the building. With his disappearance, the numbers have probably increased with law enforcement coming to resolve the situation.

“You’re going to go out there and take responsibility for all of the deaths you’ve caused. And then you’ll take this.” Kyle holds a vial three-quarters full of a milky liquid.

“Let me guess, that’ll kill me?”

“Watch the cheekiness or everyone will die instead of just you.”

“When will you people understand that the decision was out of our hands. Bennett was involved in criminal activities and was the illegal president. Nothing that happened as a result of that was mine or MacKenzie’s fault.”

“My family’s dead,” Kyle yells, choking back a sob as he takes a step forward, the trigger for the bomb moving into Darius’ sight. It’s a deadman’s switch.

“I’m sorry. A lot of people died in the last several months as we thought the world was coming to an end.” Darius is capable of being diplomatic, but he wishes Grace were here. She’s much better at forging connections and de-escalating situations.

“I know. I’m not the only one. Half of the reporters out there have lost family and you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

“Look, I’m sorry for your loss but this isn’t the way to get your satisfaction.”

“We’ve tried other means and been denied. We won’t let our families have died without retribution. Now, take this and get up and if you try anything, remember they’re all dead.” Kyle hands Darius the vial and pulls him to his feet. Standing, Darius feels lightheaded but keeps his balance. As he’s pushed out of the room, roughly nudged forward he considers how he’s going to get out of this mess.

All too soon he’s on the same stage as before, to the shocked gasps of those in attendance. He hears the snaps of cameras and clamoring of voices as Kyle pushes him to the podium. And then it’s silence as everyone waits for him to speak. Out in the crowd, he spots Grace and Liam. The whole room is held at gunpoint by the agents assigned to Darius for protection. Outside, through the tall windows, he sees the police he expected and he thinks he can spot Harris, but that might be hopeful thinking. He has a photographic memory, not perfect vision.

“Remember what I said,” Kyle whispers to him from where he stands behind Darius. “You have five minutes before I take the decision out of your hands.”

“Look, perhaps we could come to some kind of alternative arrangement. Compensation, perhaps,” Darius speaks lowly, hoping that no one can hear but Kyle.

“You think my wife and kids are worth whatever sum you can offer? You think their families can simply be replaced by money,” Kyle asks, voice loud enough now for everyone to hear.

Darius swallows heavily, looking down at the podium counter for a moment before looking up. He licks his lips as he thinks. Back when the asteroid was coming, he had no problems flying a suicide mission to save the planet, but he does now. It’s not that he would so easily sentence so many to die but it’s the situation and lack of guarantee that everyone will be safe after he dies.

“Answer me one question,” Darius says, looking down again. “What promise do I have that you’ll let everyone go after I do this?”

“A risk you’ll have to take, I’m afraid.”

“No, I want a guarantee that my death will save them.”

“You’re not in the position to make demands here. Now, sixty seconds or they all die.”

“You can still walk away from this and I’ll make sure that nothing happens. No charges.”

“Thirty seconds, Mr. Tanz.”

“Fine,” Darius says tersely. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure that some of you know why you’re already here. Time, unfortunately, is brief, so I’ll make this quick. I have chosen to accept responsibility for the deaths that occurred over the last several months as related to the asteroid. I am very sorry for your losses and only wish that there was more I could do.” Darius is as kind as he can manage in his words, hoping that he can prevent any additional loss of life. He hears gasps and murmurs and camera clicks. He sees the puzzled looks on Grace and Liam.

“Now, take a good, last drink,” Kyle says. Darius looks at the vial in his hands. Early death has always been in his cards but not this early. Still, as he looks out to Grace and Liam, seeing their worried, teary expressions, he thinks that if he can save them and Alycia, then this will be worth it. And so, with a slight smile to Grace, he drains the vial. It’s a bitter taste and he wants to gag but forces himself to keep swallowing. The effect is quick, but it doesn’t kill him right off. He collapses first, to the side, his eyes open as he sees the flashes of cameras capturing his last moments. He feels his body seize and pain radiate through as he lays there, unable to move or call out. He hears himself make pitiful moans, noises that sound more animalistic than human. He’d rather see Grace in his final moments, but instead, there’s the face of a young woman, Macie. She’s just out of school, he remembers from reading the reports of the approved reporters. She’d moved across the country for the job, leaving behind her family. And there she stands, crying as she completes her first solo news assignment. Macie is the last person he sees.

Waking up is unexpected and painful. He doesn’t, can’t open his eyes but he does have the sense of movement around him. Someone touches him, but it burns and he can’t get away. They hold on tighter and the pain explodes as he fades back into unconsciousness.

How many times he wakes in partial awareness he doesn’t know. But he does have a fuzzy feeling which he attributes to heavy doses of drugs when he finally does wake with some level of greater awareness and no pain.

“Darius,” someone asks.

He mumbles something as he turns his head to try to find the speaker. His vision is fuzzy as he’s losing consciousness again but he thinks that it’s Grace and calls out to her. He feels her soft hand in his as he falls asleep.

They eventually tell him that’s it’s a full week after the incident before he wakes long enough to converse, though his mind remains muddled thanks to the drugs that he’s still on. Without them, he’d be in unbearable pain and plagued with seizures as the drug works its way out of his system. Still, he doesn’t like the fog that’s consumed his mind. It makes talking, thinking difficult and leaves him searching for words or pausing as he processes what’s been said. The others have helped a lot, especially Harris as he still is listed as a proxy for medical decisions. It was something done years ago when his Huntington’s diagnosis was first made and he let Harris know. The two had talked and Darius made him aware of his wishes for his last years.

“When can I get out of here,” he asks. He’s awake for at least a few hours at a time now and has been up on a few occasions, though his balance was off.

“The doctor said a few more days at least. She doesn’t want to send you home so drugged up,” Liam says. Once they saw that he was improving, they moved to a rotating schedule. Liam and Alycia are there most often given the flexibility of their schedules as department heads and CEOs in training.

“I’ll be fine. I just want out of here. C… can’t you get Harris to ov… override them?”

“Harris is refusing. You have to stay in here, Darius. You didn’t see what we did. You were lucky the dosages were wrong in that vial.” Liam leans back in his seat as he talks with Darius. The urgency of the past week has thankfully faded as Darius has stabilized and become more alert. It unfortunately also means that he’s itching to get out of the hospital.

“I’m not so… sure about that.” Darius vividly recalls the pain.

“Would you rather be dead?”

Darius pauses for a moment as his mind drifts. Then, when he remembers what Liam said, he answers, “No, no, but this isn’t fun either.”

“I expect not, but at least Kyle and the others will have to answer for what they’ve done.”

“No… D…” Darius stumbles for his words. “Not their fault.”

“Not their fault? Darius, they tried to kill you and held that entire room hostage all because their loved ones committed suicide in the face of an asteroid and blamed you for it.”

“They are dis… dis…” Darius shakes his head, growling in frustration. Liam stays quiet, having learned that finishing Darius’ words only serves to aggravate him. “Dis’rauh’.” The word is slurred but Liam understands it.

“It doesn’t excuse their actions. And I know you don’t want to press charges, but it’s out of your hands. You are a former president and what they did was a serious crime.”

Darius sighs. He’s had this argument with Grace and Harris and both told him the same thing. Still, he can’t help but think that if he could just get out of here he’d be able to do something. They’ve kept him from any electronic devices save for the TV.

“You should get some more rest,” Liam says.

“That’s all I do.”

“You’re still recovering, Darius. It’s only been a couple days since you’ve been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes and not much more than that since we figured out how much pain you were in each time you woke up and got it managed. Just rest. Alycia and I have everything in order.”

“I know and I tr… trust you two.”

“But you’re a control freak,” Liam says.

Darius smiles. “Watch it.”

“Darius, rest. Everything is taken care of. Your only job is to, for once, look after your own health. If you’re not going to do it for your own sake, then do it for ours. I don’t think any of us could take seeing you hurting so much again.”

“Liam…”

“It was bad, Darius,” Liam interrupts him, concern clear in his voice and face, “and I don’t want to see it again.”

“Alright.” Darius finally gives in. “But I want to get out of here soon.”

“There aren’t any guarantees, Darius. But maybe in a few days if you behave. That means, eat and sleep when you need to. Okay?”

“Can you at least set up the TV so I can watch s… something more in… inter… better than soaps?” Darius can’t hide his frustration.

“Missing your _Doctor Who_?”

“I’m sure you can set some’ing up.”

“Between me and Alycia, I think we’ll be able to get you your fix. But you have to rest here.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Get some sleep then and I’ll start working with Alycia on what we can do.”

Liam texts with Alycia while watching Darius fall asleep. The man has been fighting sleep for much of the day, forcing himself to stay awake after dozing for an hour here or there. Though he’s recovering, the drugs and damage to his body make him tired and the doctors have warned that without proper rest Darius will face long-term consequences. Even with rest, there’s no guarantee that he won’t have some effects. Getting the man to sleep, though, is difficult. Still, the battle has been won for now and Liam has a promise to fulfill.


	10. A Shocking Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius finds himself captured and being tortured on live TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The device I've used to torture Darius in this story really does exist but I don't think they meant it to be used for torture.
> 
> Prompt: Electrocution

Darius doesn’t know what’s happening until the hood is taken off, revealing bright lights that blind him. He pulls back as much as he can tied to the chair with a thick band around his chest, his arms to the armrests, and legs to the front legs of the chair. With the bright light, he can’t see much more than a dark shadow of an ominous figure in front of him, standing with their legs spread shoulder-width and shoulders set. He himself has been stripped of his dress jacket, leaving him in just his dress shirt. It’s chilly in the room.

“Who’re you? What’s going on,” Darius asks with as much authority as he can manage. “Do you know who I am?”

“Darius Tanz, how do you wish to plead?”

“Plead? Why the hell would I want to plead anything? Let’s forget that this isn’t a courtroom and you don’t have any authority, I don’t even know what I’m pleading for.”

“Darius Tanz, how do you wish to plead,” the man asks again.

“Did you not hear me? I don’t know what I’m pleading about and you don’t have that kind of authority.”

It’s then that Darius is shocked, literally. He wonders why he didn’t feel it before. Under his shirt, around his chest like a vest is a small defibrillator. The exact model he’s been working on with his team. He knows the feel of the product, the design of the apparatus, which he is working on making less obtrusive and confining. The shock hits his heart and radiates out through his chest and he can’t help the gasp at the pain. The belt at his chest keeps him from bending over as his nerve are lit on fire and his muscles contract painfully.

“How do you plead?” The voice, the same flat, authoritative tone, filters in through the pain.

“Nothing. I don’t fucking plead anything.” Darius gasps. “How the hell am I supposed to answer that when I don’t even know the question?”

“American citizens, patriots, listen to how this man, even now, refuses to answer for his crimes.” The man turns away, throwing hand back to point at Darius.

“Crimes? What are you talking about? And who are you talking to?” Darius forces himself to sit up, keep his head back.

“Say hello to your jury, the American people.” The man turns and points behind him, where Darius finally sees a tripod with a cellphone on the top. “And now begins your trial for treason.”

“Treason? No, I’ve not done anything of the sort.” He’s shocked again. It’s not as strong as last time but it still hurts, especially on nerves that are already tingling with lingering pain.

“Do you deny that you are President of the United States of America?”

“No, of course not.”

“And do you deny that you became President after the death of Pauline McKenzie?”

“She was assassinated in front of my eyes.”

“Answer,” zap, “the question, Mr. Tanz.”

“That’s President Tanz to you.” Another shock comes then and so close to the previous, he sees stars as the two waves seem to hit and bounce off each other as they travel through all of the nerves in his body. He can’t help gasping, squirming, pulling at the restraints. He doesn’t think about the spectacle he’s putting on to the country and probably the world because his body is on fire and he simply has to wait for it to go out on its own.

“I don’t recognize you as my President, Mr. Tanz. Now, answer the question, you became president after the death of Pauline McKenzie.”

“Yes, I became president after the assassination of Pauline McKenzie.”

He’s zapped again before the man turns to face his digital audience. “You will, of course, disregard the defendant’s colorful turn of phrases. It has nevertheless been established that he became president after Pauline McKenzie’s death.”

“I’m… not the one… getting it wrong…. Using eu… euphemisms.”

“The truth is all that matters here.” The man turns back to Darius. “There is no getting it wrong because these are just the facts of the case. Now, back to our questions.”

“This is ridiculous. Let me go. People will find me and when they do, you’ll be arrested for abducting the President of the United States.”

“Back to our questioning.”

Away from the mock courtroom, in the Oval Office Harris and Grace as wells as others stand watching the trial in horror. Whoever has captured Darius is skilled enough to broadcast their signal in every single channel to the entire nation. There is no escaping it short of shutting the TV off but who can do that with their president restrained, questioned, and tortured before their eyes. Even those who support him are caught in the sight. The gasps, cries, and labored breathing as he’s shocked and feeling the waves of pain radiate through his body, nerves lighting up and muscles clenching. The normally composed genius is sweating and swearing but not giving in. His defiance is cheered by some and scoffed at by others.

For Grace, she hates every single moment. She knows that Harris has teams searching for his location, scouring the video for clues about the location and the people. So far there is nothing. The press, her responsibility, has been rabid but she’s given them everything she knows, everything she can. Not once in all of the history of the nation has the president been captured let alone tortured on live TV for the world see. It is abject humiliation for Darius and for the nation.

And for now, all they can do is bear witness.

Harris’ phone ringing breaks the tension in the room. He answers it, voice short and frowns when he realizes who it is. He gestures for Grace to follow him behind the desk where he turns his back to the rest of the room and puts the phone on speaker.

“What do you want, Liam,” he says, voice short.

“To help you get Darius back.”

“Why? This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Liam says, hurt. “Now, do you want help or not?”

“How can you help us, Liam,” Grace says, putting a halt to the escalating argument.

“We know where they’re filming. We used TESS to trace the source.”

“Are you sure you’ve got the right place?”

“TESS isn’t wrong,” Liam says.

“And why should we trust you,” Harris asks.

“Damn it, you want him back, don’t you?”

“Re/Syst doesn’t like Darius. You’ve refused to work with him.”

“This isn’t Re/Syst doing this,” Alycia says. “Look, I don’t like Darius, but he doesn’t deserve what they’re doing to him. And if you keep questioning us about our accuracy and motives, you’re going to have another constitutional crisis on your hands. He’s not going to last long with how much they’re going at him.”

“Go get him, Harris,” Liam says. “If anything changes or we get better information, we’ll get it to you.”

“You’d better be right,” Harris says.

“TESS is right.”

Once the call ends, Harris checks the coordinates they’ve sent him. It’s an abandoned building miles from here. They’d have never thought to look there, not until it was too late.

“Can you get him,” Grace asks.

“If he’s here, then maybe. It’s not going to be easy. We’re going to have to be careful that they don’t startle and kill him.” Harris bites out the last words. His and Darius’ relationship over the last few months has been rocky, especially since Darius became Vice President and then President, but he still doesn’t want to see the man harmed, let alone killed.

“But you can do it?”

“I think so, but I should go now and get a team together.”

“You’re going in?”

“I’m not leaving this to chance. I’m going to make sure that we get him out alive.”

“Go then. I’ll handle things here. Keep me updated though.”

“Of course.”

The next hour and a half is a rush of activity. Harris quickly assembles his team and coordinates with them the rescue of their President. It’s on the ride there that he switches to soldier mode, blocking out the nerves and worry over what he’s going to find. The reports they’re getting are that Darius is still alive but growing less responsive. Any more than that, he blocks out because Darius is still alive and that’s what he needs to know.

And he’s still alive when they enter the room where the filming is ongoing. Bullets fire once they break into the room. Harris had ordered his team to take Darius’ captors alive, if possible, but to ultimately ensure the safety of the President. It means that streaming on all channels to the nation, and now to the world, Harris and his team kill the dozen people holding Darius hostage. One manages to get a shot off aimed at Darius, hitting the man in the shoulder.

Once they have the room secured, Harris orders the end of the streaming and goes to Darius, who leans limp and heavy against the ties that secure him to the chair. Aside from the bleeding shoulder wound, Darius is sweating and trembling.

“Darius?” Harris kneels next to him, hoping that he might get some sort of reaction. Darius groans, twitches, and gasps loudly. Harris touches the man’s shoulder, which makes Darius cry out and jump back as much as he can still tied to the chair.

“Alright, alright. Let’s just get you out of here first.” Harris calls over Anna, the medic on the team, to help him steady Darius as he cuts the bonds. “And make sure to get the paramedics in here,” he calls out to the rest of the team as they keep the room secure. Harris is quick as he cuts the bonds, trying not to touch Darius or move him much. He can only imagine the pain the man is in after the stream of electric shocks he was given. They’re lucky that he’s still alive.

Once he’s free, Harris and Anna lift him out of the chair and stretch him out on the floor, ignoring his cries of pain. Anna then goes to work on examining him and stabilizing him.

“Can you work on cutting the defibrillator off of him, sir,” Anna says. “I’ve got to see to this shoulder wound, but I don’t want that to stay on him any longer just in case it’s still giving him any level of electric shocks.”

Underneath the defibrillator, Harris finds two circular burn marks, deep burns that will mar Darius’ chest. Anna instructs him on what to do to clean and dress them. All the while, Darius remains in a state of delirium. His words are unclear and his intentions in fighting back are weak. The only bit of clarity are the gasps and cries. Now free, he tries to move from their ministrations, to curl on one side but he doesn’t have the strength. Weak and trembling, there’s little he can do but submit to them.

The paramedics arrive shortly after, doing their own assessment as they listen to Anna’s. Quickly, an IV is set up, EKG electrodes are attached, and an oxygen mask put over his mouth and nose. Expectantly, the EKG shows Darius’ heart rhythm as irregular. Rather than work on it there, they make sure that he’s stable enough for transport and take him to the hospital, where Grace is waiting.

The wait though is long as she’s not allowed back while they’re working on him. It’s not until they have him in a private, heavily guarded room that she and Harris are permitted inside. Pale and exhausted, Darius is awake when they enter.

“Can’t sleep,” he tells them, irritated. The doctor had explained to them that with the number of electric shocks Darius had already had, she wasn’t comfortable shocking him again to get his heart to return to a normal rhythm, especially when the current rhythm wasn’t life-threatening. It means that Darius can feel his heart flutter, can feel it out of sync with the rest of him, giving him flitter of pain as it thumps out of beat. It’s not excruciating, but uncomfortable and unnerving and the more it happens, the more it does hurt.

“Try to breathe through it,” Grace says, feeling the need to suggest something even though it feels helpless.

“Yeah.” Darius has been bumped down to the nasal cannula for oxygen, but he still has the EKG and IV. He leans heavily against the raised head of the bed, not moving if he can help it.

“Other than the heart, how’re you feeling?” Grace sees the bulk of the bandages on his chest covering the burns. He’s been left shirtless but with a sheet and blanket pulled up over his chest to ward off any chill he might’ve caught in the cold building. The shoulder’s been stitched, bandaged, and the arm is resting on a pillow on Darius’ stomach where they hope he’ll keep it. The bandaging alone is enough to ensure that Darius can’t move it much.

“Like I’ve been through the wringer.” Darius shifts, wincing, then gasping at the pain that comes from the simple movement.

“Breath, Darius,” Harris says. He looks up at Grace, meeting her worried gaze with his own, then back down at Darius as the man tries to breathe through the waves of pain that won’t stop. Given his irregular heartbeat, they’ve refrained from giving him higher doses of painkillers. Naproxen is the most they’re comfortable with giving him and that’s clearly doing nothing to help.

“I know it hurts but you’re just going to have to keep breathing steadily. It will pass,” Harris says as he starts to run a hand through Darius’ hair. It’s longer than he normally lets it grow but then they’ve had other concerns. He sees Grace pick up Darius’ free hand, massaging it gently to try to calm him. They alternate in speaking to him and it eventually works but he’s more exhausted than before.

“Sleep, Darius,” Grace says.

“I told… you. … I can’t. Hurts.”

“Just close your eyes then and rest. You need to rest at the very least.”

“There’s security outside and Grace and me will be here,” Harris says.

“Wasn’t…”

“Yes, you were and it’s fine. We still don’t know how you were taken but that’s a matter for another day. You’re safe here. Anyone who wants to take you will have to get through the two most loyal secret service agents as well as myself and Grace. So, close your eyes.”

There’s a moment while Darius contemplates what he’s going to do but settles on trying to close his eyes because he is exhausted and keeping them open takes work. He mumbles a thanks to Harris and Grace. Their hands are still in his hair and on his hand, comforting him further. Then, Harris starts talking telling a story he’s heard often in the past about Harris’ academy days but he listens because the tone and the words are comfort enough bringing up a sense of nostalgia that warms him like the blankets couldn’t. Warmed and comforted, he starts to drift and, though his heart still flutters, he does fall into a light sleep that will have to do for now.


	11. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darius stays down in the tunnels like Harris asks but it's not Grace who he first runs into. AU from "White House Down"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stay

Harris told him to stay here. He even gave him a gun, which he should have used properly but the idea of shooting someone, of inflicting such damage on another human being, even if that person is attacking him, was difficult to reconcile with. However, now, lying on the floor with two gunshot wounds, one to his thigh and the other his stomach, Darius wonders if he should’ve just used the gun properly. The man who shot him didn’t even come close enough to use the gun as a club. In fact, he barely stopped after delivering the kill shots.

Darius doesn’t bother to call out for Harris. The man is out on the streets looking for Grace and he doesn’t want the man who shot him coming back to make sure that he’s dead. So, he lays there, hands uselessly over his stomach wound. He thought after being shot at in Iceland he had some idea of what it was like to be shot but that pain is nothing like this. This is a constant pain with sharp, stabbing spikes that blind his thoughts and vision. He rolls on to his side in one nauseating movement because he thinks it might make the pain better to be able to curl around one of the sources but it doesn’t. It only serves to make the pain worse and leave him panting for any air. He slams a hand on the cold floor because he hurts and there’s nothing he can do. What a waste, he thinks.

“Darius,” Grace says, worry clear in her voice. He doesn’t hear her come. She’s down in front of him, kneeling. “Harris, Alonzo, quick he’s been shot.” She pushes him on his back and he figures she must be trying to be gentle but all he feels is pain. Harris and another guy, who must be Alonzo, arrive in a flurry, kneeling down next to him. Darius gasps, feeling his world erupt in even more pain as they press down on the wounds. He tries to shift out from underneath them, but they’re strong and his strength seems to have escaped him. He chokes on his breath and flinches back when they tie a tourniquet around his thigh to stem the bleeding.

“We need to get him to a doctor,” Grace says. “And quick.”

“We can’t get him to a doctor, though,” Alonzo says. “Not only is it a mess out there, but he’d be a target.”

Harris is quiet as he listens and thinks. “Where’s your phone, Darius? Do you still have it with you?” Harris starts feeling in his pockets for the phone, trying to be gentle but ignoring the pained gasps from Darius and questions from Grace and Alonzo. Once he finds the phone, he calls Liam.

“What now, Darius?” Liam isn’t even looking at the screen as he answers.

“It’s Harris. Darius needs your help,” Harris says shortly.

“What?” Liam looks at the screen.

“He’s been hurt. I need to know where Bennett’s men are. We need a safe route out of here.”

Liam is quiet for a moment as he checks the computer.

“What happened,” Alycia asks.

“He’s been shot and needs a doctor, which we can’t get right now,” Harris says.

“As I’ve already told Darius, much of the White House has been taken over by Bennett’s men from the looks of it. They’re not to the Oval Office yet, but they’re headed there. There’s a lot of men on the ground, moving in groups. At least five different groups,” Liam says.

“Damn.”

“There’s a wine cellar not far from here,” Alonzo says. “We can get him there and then see if we can find a way out.”

“Alright. Liam, keep us updated on what you find out.”

“Yeah, okay. And keep him safe and alive.”

“The Vice President doesn’t die on my watch,” Harris says and ends the call. “Darius, did you hear any of that?” Harris knows from experience how gunshot wounds can overwhelm the senses and he expects that Darius might be so consumed by pain that he isn’t aware of much else.

“’iam. ‘ine?” Darius’ voice is weak as he struggles to breathe steadily with the pain.

“Somewhat. We’re going to have to get you up and moving.”

“No,” Darius moans.

“We have to,” Grace says. “You need more care than we can give you here.”

“And the longer we stay here the more vulnerable we are,” Alonzo adds. Darius nods, tensing in preparation for the movement.

“Relax, Darius. Let us do the work,” Harris says, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We might want to actually carry him,” Alonzo says, looking at Harris. “With that leg wound, he’s not going to make it far. And any kind of movement is going to make the bleeding worse.”

“You’re right. Help me get him up and then I’ll carry him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve had to before and he’s my responsibility. You two just keep a lookout and I’ll get him to that cellar.”

They try to minimize their movements as they get Darius off the floor and into Harris’ arms. Carrying him any way other than in his arms would be far too painful even though the method puts an immediate strain on Harris’ muscles. Still, he meant what he said. Darius is his responsibility and not just because he’s the Vice President.

Darius, meanwhile, tries to keep his cries and gasps of pain to a minimum. Though pain is at the forefront of his thoughts, he is aware enough of his surroundings to know that a lot of noise would be bad. Still, the movement from lying to standing to resting in Harris’ arms pulls and puts excruciating pressure on his wounds. Part of him would like to simply pass out. Back in Iceland, he’d had the fortunate of initially passing out but not this time. He tries to help Harris by looping his arms around his neck to support some of his weight but it makes his stomach wound unbearable and so he lets go, feeling helpless as he has to rely on the others to help him.

The cellar is dusty and dark, far from ideal for treating wounds of any kind, but they have little choice. Harris and Alonzo leave Grace and Darius shut in the cellar while they go in search of a safe way out and perhaps some help. Meanwhile, Grace keeps up the pressure on the stomach wound.

“You still with me,” she asks, brushing aside some of his stray hairs with her free hand. It’s splattered with his dried blood, but she ignores it.

“Yeah,” Darius answers breathlessly. He turns his head and opens his eyes to look at her. The pain is still there but he’s been working to put it to the side, pain is simply a reminder that you’re not perfect, he thinks. Pain is something that can be ignored and pushed to the side. Letting it consume him has been a terrible show of weakness. He swallows and forces his mind to ignore the signals his body is sending because they’ll do him little good. He’s a Tanz. He has to be strong.

“Good. Harris and Alonzo are working to get some help.”

“We have to… get the broadcast center. … We need to get that video out,” Darius says.

“We need to get you taken care of,” Grace counters.

“No, there’s a timer on the nukes.”

“What?”

“Without the internet, the nukes will launch in less than an hour.” Darius shifts, gasping unwillingly at the pain. “Have to… have to get internet back on.”

“And how do we do that? According to Liam, Bennett has much of the White House.”

“Have to get the internet back.” Darius shifts, groaning at the pain that comes.

Before Grace can answer, there’s a knocking at the door and Harris announces that it’s him to their relief. Grace goes to unlock the door, letting the two men in before locking up again.

“There’s nothing but Bennett’s men out there. The tunnels are compromised,” Harris says as he goes over to check on Darius. Alonzo follows behind him while Grace returns to holding pressure on the stomach wound.

“We can’t just stay here,” Grace says.

“I know. We have to get him out and to medical help.”

“No, we have to get the internet back on,” Darius interrupts them.

“The internet can wait,” Alonzo says.

“No, it…” Darius begins but is cut off by a wave of pain that he can’t ignore. It’s caused by Harris removing the wad of cloth Grace has been using to stem the flow of blood from his stomach. Grace swallows at the sight of Darius in pain, feeling helpless.

“There are more important things.”

“Actually, he’s right,” Harris says as he looks at the wound. “We need the internet or 13 nukes will be launched.”

“So, what do we do,” Grace asks, working to compose herself. Darius has thankfully quieted down and is now working on steadying his breathing. “If there’s no way out, especially with Darius badly wounded, what do we do?”

“Russia,” Darius says quietly.

“What?” Harris looks down at Darius then up at Grace, where the man’s eyes seem to be directed. It takes Grace a moment to realize what he means.

“Surrender? Are you even capable of that,” she asks.

“No choice.” He shakes his head.

“Surrender? That’s the craziest idea I’ve heard,” Alonzo says unaccustomed to the strangeness of Darius’ mind.

“No, I think it will,” Grace says, following Darius’ line of thought, voicing the plan that he doesn’t have the breath or energy to right now. “Once Bennett has us then he’ll want to turn the internet back on to announce his victory.”

“And what about the video,” Harris asks. “He’s not going to simply upload it for us.”

“Liam,” Darius says, swallowing heavily.

“You want to count on Re/Syst?”

“No, Liam. Count… on Liam.” Darius fumbles for his phone, gasping and wincing as the movements cause him more pain. Harris bats his hands away, grabbing the phone.

“We’re going to have to bandage that wound if you even have a chance of walking long enough to surrender,” Harris says.

“Find something… and do it,” Darius says. “And give… me the… phone.”

Harris hands over the phone and Darius immediately makes the call to Liam. As he speaks to the young man, Harris, Grace, and Alonzo work to bandage the stomach wound. The gasps and strangled cries that he gives alarm both Liam and Alycia but he ignores them the best that he can as he explains his plan. There is work to do and while Liam has difficulty putting emotions aside, he hopes that he can count on Alycia to fall into line.

In the end, they settle on using Grace’s shirt, the one that is underneath the bulletproof shirt Darius gave her, as a bandage. To secure it to him, they take Harris’ tie. It’s not the best but it’ll work until they can retake the White House and save the day. Getting to his feet makes him question his choices, his vision whiting out at the pain but, once standing, he reminds himself that he is a Tanz and Tanz men are strong, they do not let small things like gunshot wounds bend their knees.

Unbeknownst to him, they support him as they leave the cellar. Alonzo eventually separates from them, leaving Harris and Grace to help Darius. They steady him with a stray hand when he wobbles and slow their pace when he can’t breathe and move easily. Still, they find Bennett’s soldiers quickly and Darius manages to announce their surrender. The soldiers are rough with them, despite their complaints. Darius trips and sinks to his knees a few times under their treatment. Harris and Grace help him to his feet, supporting him until he’s able to push them away.

To say that she’s surprised to see the three of then ushered into the Oval Office would be an understatement. MacKenzie though is happy for some familiar faces, even if they look a bit worn and, in the case of Darius, pained. He trips as they bring them in, shoving him roughly as he slows his pace. Harris steadies him and supports him as they’re lined up in the front of Bennett. Standing there now, she sees the outline of a crude bandage under his shirt, which is stained with blood.

The next couple minutes surprise her as Bennett turns the internet back on and the Supreme Court video is shared across the internet, leading to Bennett’s arrest. She’s grateful for it, however these three managed to make it work but as soon Bennett is escorted from the room, Darius collapses, steadied on his descent to the ground by Harris and Grace. He pales and gasps in the motions, only semi-conscious by the time he’s laid out on the floor.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Harris says. “He’s been bleeding from gunshot wounds for the last half-hour.”

MacKenzie calls for a medic, who comes in quickly. As the medic examines and bandages the wounds, she explains the situation.

“While he needs a hospital right now, getting him there is going to prove difficult as the crowds are unwilling to disperse,” she says. “His wounds are serious and he needs surgery, but I don’t feel it’s safe to send him even in an ambulance or a helicopter. Not with these crowds. They could easily overtake or take out a vehicle and he’d be captured or killed.”

“What’s the plan then,” Grace asks.

“The White House is capable of doing emergency surgery. We have the plans and supplies. We just need to find the surgeon.”

“Emergency surgery in the White House?”

“He needs it or he’s not going to make it. The leg wound isn’t bad but the stomach is and there’s no way to repair the damage without surgery.”

“Go get things set up,” MacKenzie says. “We’ll get him to the room.” The medic quickly leaves to arrange the surgery.

“Darius, you still with us,” Grace asks quietly.

Darius turns his head lightly, muttering something none of them can understand.

“Let’s get him to the room,” Harris says. “We can’t afford to waste much time here.”

Darius is somewhat aware of what’s going on around him but more at the forefront of his mind is disappointment at having collapsed so quickly. There are still things to be done but he doesn’t have the strength to get up. Grace’s hand on his chest is enough to keep him in one place. He passes out from pain some time as they’re lifting him a few inches to set him on the stretcher and wakes to strangers working quickly around him, stripping him of his clothes, setting up an IV, EKG, and other machines to monitor his vitals.

“Wha… what’s going… on,” he asks, looking around. He tries to push himself off the stretcher, panic overcoming the pain. One of the strangers, a medic perhaps, pushes him back down. Something isn’t right here, he thinks. He’s not in a hospital. He knows that ceiling. It’s still the White House and he recognizes no one. He tries fighting them again, pushing away the hand and repeating his earlier question. Then Grace and Harris come into his line of sight.

“Calm down, Darius,” Grace says. “You’re fine. These people are trying to help you.”

“No, no. Things… things to do.”

“You have just one thing to do, Darius,” Harris says. “Lay there while they get you ready for surgery.”

“No. Work. Have to.”

“We’re about ready to start, sir,” a medic says.

“Alright. Let’s give him a sedative,” the surgeon says.

“No. No sed… sedative,” Darius says, pushing harder even as his body is overcome with pain and he cries out. Grace and Harris easily keep him laying on the table, but it only makes Darius more agitated. Quickly then, Darius is given a sedative, which, in his weakened state, starts working soon and before they know it, he succumbs to the sedative, allowing them to work.

The surgery resembles more combat surgery but the surgeon and his team are talented and they quickly see to the stomach wound. Once the bullet is found and removed, the wound is cleaned, examined closely to make sure there aren’t any other internal injuries, and packed with gauze. They’ll wait to make sure the wound is clean and free of infection before stitching him back up. The leg wound gets similar treatment, though that was a through and through shot.

Until he’s more stable and they can be sure that transporting him won’t put him in danger, he’s kept in the same room, though transferred to a clean bed, a small gurney. He’s monitored by machines and medics as he’s gradually allowed to regain consciousness. For Harris and Grace, they take turns in sitting with him as he wakes up, but they’re torn away by work. There’s a lot to deal with and put back in order. Jillian takes her turn as well and MacKenzie comes in regularly to see if he’s awake yet and to check on his status.

As Darius starts waking, gradually coming to awareness, he is relieved to find that the overwhelming pain from earlier is gone, replaced by a dull ache and a fuzziness. He remembers something about surgery and being shot. It was an emergency, he thinks. He’s told in his brief moments of wakefulness what’s happened, asked about how he’s feeling but he can’t remember what he’s told and he’s not sure if he manages to give a straight answer, feeling his mind clouded.

It’s Harris with him when he finally manages to wake enough to be coherent. He tries to ask what’s happened, but his voice is scratchy. Harris helps him drink some water, being careful to not move him too much. Still, it wakens the ache even more. He takes a moment to look around as he tries to put the pain back in its place beneath the surface.

“What happened,” he finally asks recognizing the ceiling as part of the White House.

“You were shot and had emergency surgery,” Harris says.

“I remember something like that but why am I here?”

“It’s still not safe to take you out of the White House. Bennett’s supporters are still out there. Once the army has cleared the area of his supporters, we’ll get you to the hospital. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“The truth, please, Darius. Your uncle isn’t here. It’s just you and me.”

“Sore, then,” Darius says.

“That’s expected. They’re rationing out the painkillers in case we’re in here for a while.”

“Wonderful.” Darius shifts and winces.

“If you need more to keep you comfortable, I’ll talk with them.”

“No, no. It’s fine. This just isn’t how I expected the day to go.”

“Technically it’s tomorrow. And Liam called to find out how you were doing. Alycia wanted to know, too.”

“I’m not sure what to do with the two of them. They’re fantastic scientists but they’ve gone down the wrong paths.”

“Give them a chance, Darius. They did good today, yesterday.” Harris sighs. “Other than sore, how’re you feeling?”

“Tired, foggy.”

“You lost a lot of blood. You’re getting a transfusion, but I think it’s going to take some time. And you did go through a lot, between getting shot and emergency surgery. It’s going to take a toll. You should get some more rest.”

“But there’s work to be done. Rosetta and the rail gun.”

“She’s working on it. You have to rest. You still have an open wound. Moving around, working, that’s not going to help it.”

“Open wound?” Darius tries to sit up and gasps, moving his hand to his stomach to ease the pain.

“Your stomach. Before they close it, they want to make sure there’s no infection. Once they’re sure, they’ll close it up.”

“And this day keeps getting better.”

“You are alive. We all are and we have the country back,” Harris says.

“I know, I know. But I need to get going. That asteroid isn’t going to take a break because I can’t do anything.”

“And you won’t be able to do anything if you don’t take a break to rest now. No one blames you for getting shot. You shouldn’t have been left there alone.”

“We didn’t have a choice and I probably could’ve used the gun as it was intended.”

Harris huffs lightly. He knows exactly how Darius held the gun because he knows how Darius feels about guns and violence.

“No, you couldn’t, Darius. I shouldn’t have expected you to use it correctly to defend yourself.”

“And you shouldn’t have given me your shirt,” Grace says as she walks into the room. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m alive,” Darius says.

“He’s said that he’s sore and tired,” Harris says. “And what’s this about a shirt?”

“A bulletproof shirt Darius was wearing yesterday that he gave me before I went to the hospital. If I hadn’t taken it, then you wouldn’t have been shot.”

“It doesn’t cover my legs, Grace,” Darius says tiredly.

“You wouldn’t’ve been shot in the stomach then.”

“No, he might’ve gone for my head when he realized he didn’t get me. So, this isn’t ideal but I’m alive.”

“That you are and you still need to get some rest,” Harris says, seeing the pained look in Darius’ face. “You’re recovering from some serious wounds. Even staying awake to talk at this point is too much.”

“So, I’m to sleep…” Darius cries out as he unconsciously moves as he grows irritated. Harris and Grace are standing and at his bedside right away, urging him to calm down and stay still as he tries to find his breath through the pain. He’s sweating and exhausted when he finally manages to get himself calmed down again.

“Rest, Darius.” Grace runs a hand through his hair to tame it. “MacKenzie has plans for you while you recover but that only happens once the doctor clears you. So, rest if you want to work.”

“Not… fair.”

“Life isn’t but that’s the deal.”

“Fine.”

He doesn’t have the energy to fight them or his body anymore. Uncle Nick taught him about the faults of the human body, the weakness that injury and illness bring but he’s beginning to think that Nick was wrong. Sometimes, maybe, a break is good, like now. He couldn’t imagine working, thinking, trying to save the world in his current condition and what’s more, Grace and Harris, even the President aren’t asking it of him. And as strange as that is, the lack of constant demand despite his physical condition, it makes him feel warmed, comforted as he drifts back off to sleep.


	12. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jillian calls Harris to help Darius, who's not quite himself in the aftermath of the tunnels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Exhaustion
> 
> This chapter deals with anxiety, panic attacks, and combat stress fatigue. It takes place in the aftermath of the tunnels ("White House Down"). I don't think that Darius could have gotten away from that experience without some lingering effects, not with the looks Santiago Cabrera was giving as Darius in those scenes.

Harris doesn’t expect the call from Jillian. It’s not panic in her voice but worry and urgency as she tells him to get up to the attic right away. There are secret service agents positioned outside the attic that Darius has chosen to make his office, so he assumes it must not be related to some danger or they would’ve been called in first.  Still, he rushes to the attic.

“Something wrong, sir,” Mike, one of the agents, asks.

“Just answering a call from the Vice President.” Harris opts to not let them know of any potential problems inside. He knocks in the hopes of not startling anyone. Since their trek in the tunnels where two agents died in front of them, Darius has been jumpy. He’s been careful to give the man warning of his approach and advised Grace and the President as well as the agents to do the same. If they were lucky, the jumpiness would pass soon and Darius could return to his normal state of being irritatingly right every time.

“Secretary Edwards,” Jillian says as she cracks the door open several inches.

“What’re you doing,” Darius asks, irritation clear. Harris sees him rush over, pushing Jillian out of the way to close the door. Fortunately, Harris acts quickly and shoves a foot in the doorway to keep the door open. “Harris.” Darius huffs. Harris ignores the man’s annoyance and pushes his way in, closing the door behind him. Something is clearly not right and he won’t let Darius’ problems become fodder for the whole White House to discuss. Darius walks away angrily, pacing on the other side of the office, behind his desk. He glances occasionally to the computer.

“What’s going on,” Harris asks Jillian, who’s come to stand a few feet beside him.

“He’s been getting worse all day and it’s not just today,” Jillian says. “It’s been building since the tunnels. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t eat. Dr. Stendahl sent him away until he got some sleep. He couldn’t do the math needed and he’s been pacing around here, trying to work but more focused on keeping watch. He keeps wanting to lock the door even though he has cameras set up watching every entrance point.”

“Don’t talk about me when I’m right here,” Darius says. “Don’t stand there and talk about me like I’m not even here.”

“Okay,” Harris says lightly. “Okay. Why don’t you sit down for a minute? Rest.” Harris takes a few careful steps towards Darius.

“No, no. Anyone could come in.”

“I’m here. I’ll protect us.”

“But you didn’t them.” Darius doesn’t say it to hurt, that Harris knows, but it still does. Two good men died protecting them, protecting Darius and there was little Harris could do.

“But I did you, remember? And I will keep you and Jillian safe, okay? No one will come in to harm us. I promise.”

“Can’t make that promise. You can’t promise that, Harris. They died in front of us. Out of the shadows, they were shot and died. They didn’t even see who killed them.”

“I know, Darius. And, yes, I can’t promise that nothing will happen to you here, but I will do what I have to do protect you. Do you trust me to do that?”

“Because you have to. Because you have to,” Darius says. He leans against the wall, furthest from them and looks up at Harris with a lost look.

“Yes, it’s my job, but I also do it because I want to. You’re a great irritation, but you’re also a friend even when I’d rather strangle you.”

“Yes, irritation. I know. Rosetta said so.”

“Those weren’t her words, Darius,” Jillian says, joining Harris in the middle of the room. They’ve been careful to give Darius space as he works through his current state. “You’re tired and you couldn’t think. You need to rest.”

“Can’t. Have to watch. I have to make sure…” Darius starts pacing again as his voice trails off. Harris takes a moment to observe the man. He’d already seen the tiredness in his face and tension in his body. Darius is far too wound up to even contemplate resting though his body is in desperate need. His suit jacket has been shed and sleeves rolled up. The clothing is wrinkled and hair a wavy mess. He’s more than unkempt, he doesn’t care because he can’t, not when his attention is on survival. The more Harris thinks about his interactions with the man over the last week, the more he sees the signs and wants to kick himself for not seeing them sooner. With treatment, Darius could have avoided this state of anxiety and exhaustion.

“Okay, Darius, I need you to trust me and listen to me. I’m going to tell you some things to do and you’re going to have to do them because they’re going to make you feel better.” Harris stays where he’s at, waiting for a response, which comes after a moment of Darius speaking quietly under his breath.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to feel better.”

“Do you want to get back to work? I’m sure you’re dying to get back to helping with the railgun.”

“I’m working here, sending calculations to Rosetta.”

“I’m sure, but thinking’s not the easiest, right now, is it?”

“No, no. Everything’s thick and muddled. Then quick and slippery. Can’t hold onto anything or grasp it.” Darius gestures at his head with clear frustration.

“I can help,” Harris says, this time taking a few steps forward.

“You can? How?” Darius stops moving and looks at Harris.

“Do you trust me?” Harris keeps moving towards Darius.

“Trust? Yes. What do I do so I can think again, Harris?” Darius nearly pleads with Harris.

“Just listen to me and trust me, okay. Now, let’s go over here to this chair.” Harris spots a chair over in the corner of the room. It’s away from the windows and out of sight of the computer. In fact, it’s a darker corner of the room. As he guides Darius over to the chair, he senses a certain coolness and calmness in the space and he hopes that it’ll work to settle Darius. He kneels down in front of Darius once the man is sitting.

“Now, put your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands.”

“Harris…”

“Trust me, Darius. You need to take some deep breathes and this will help.”

“Breathing? No, no. I can’t calm down.” Darius rushes to his feet and moves away from the chair. He trips over some boxes left on the floor, crashing to the floor, shoulder first as he throws out his hands to try to catch himself. Darius pushes himself angrily into a sitting position. He gasps at the pain in his wrists and shoulder at the movement and only remains upright because Harris quickly moves to put himself between Darius and the floor. Harris sees the impending emotional explosion and acts quickly. Darius won’t be happy if Jillian is here to witness this, even though he’s sure the young woman wouldn’t hold it against her boss.

“Jillian, would you step outside and let the agents know everything’s fine here.” He hopes she understands that she needs to stay out there until he gives her the all clear.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Jillian says on her way out.

“No, don’t.” Darius tries to move from Harris’ side, but Harris holds him steady and nods to Jillian to leave.

“Darius, stop. She’s safe out there. I wouldn’t let her go out there if she wasn’t.”

“But…”

“Darius, you have to realize that you can’t protect everyone. What happened down in the tunnels was unfortunate but not because of anything you did.”

“They were protecting me, Harris. If I hadn’t been there they’d be alive.”

“It was their job. There’s no point in playing what-ifs. It’s done and over,” Harris says.

“How can you be so callous? They were men, with families. Young families and they’re heartbroken. Their wives couldn’t even speak with me and their families called me inconsiderate for bothering them.”

“Why did you call them, Darius? The head of the Secret Service took care of it.”

“I had to apologize. It was my fault. If I hadn’t wanted to go find Grace then they’d be alive.” Darius angrily pushes himself away from Harris and to his feet. He’s unsteady in his frustration as he does a circuit to check the entrance points and cameras feeds on his computer. Harris watches the movement, seeing the tension and anger building again. He covertly sends a text to Jillian.

“You don’t know what we would’ve run up against on the way to the bunker. There’s no way of knowing if those two men would’ve died and right now you have more important things to do than work yourself up over their deaths.”

“I know I have things I need to do, Harris, and I’m working on them but I can’t even remember basic equations. Rosetta sent me away because I couldn’t do basic math. I can’t do anything.” Darius continues his pacing and his checks.

“You need to take care of yourself, Darius. Sleep, eat, then you’ll be able to do everything.”

“I can’t,” Darius says angrily. “I can’t sleep.”

“Do you trust me,” Harris asks.

“How many times are you going to ask me that today?” The familiar exasperation in Darius is welcoming to Harris.

“Until I believe that you do trust me and not just because you have to trust me. Because you want to.”

Darius is silent for a moment, pausing his pacing to lean heavily on the back of the desk chair. “We’ve had our arguments, Harris, and I know professionally we disagree on just about everything, but yes, I do trust you. You’re my friend and beneath all of our disagreements, I know you only want the best even when I don’t see it that way.”

“Then let me help you.”

“What’re you going to do, Harris? You can’t will this away. I know what’s going on with me and don’t you think I’ve tried.”

“I’m sure you have, but I have training in this. Let me help. I helped Liam after he was taken by Croft and had to shoot him.”

“He never said.”

“Liam like the others thinks we can’t stand each other’s guts. I think MacKenzie might be the only one to see past that.”

“She’s a smart President.”

“Yes and if you’re going to be an equally smart Vice President, then you need to let me help you.” Harris’ phone buzzes with a text from Jillian and he goes to meet her at the door while Darius watches in confusion. Jillian hands off a folded up cot to Harris, who thanks her and immediately starts setting it up off in the same darkened corner of the room.

“I’d love to, but I can’t sleep.”

“Because you’re always on alert. You have to know what might be coming, I know. Let me take over watch while you get some sleep. Once you’re rested, we’ll tackle everything else and before you know it you’ll be back to your old annoying self.”

Darius smiles lightly but doesn’t move.

“It’ll work, Darius. Trust me.”

“Harris,” Darius says wearily.

“Give it a half-hour. If you’re not asleep by then, we’ll try something else.”

“A half-hour?”

“That’s it.”

“O…okay.” Darius nods and runs a hand through his unruly hair. At some point he’s got to get a haircut, he thinks. He slowly makes his way over but hesitates before he sits down. It’s not the cot but giving in. He is exhausted even though his body is tense and his mind busy yet unfocused. Sleeping seems impossible as each time he’s tried he see the dead bodies or he imagines that it’s Grace or Liam or Harris or Jillian or MacKenzie that he can’t save. Harris leaves the cot for a moment to bring over the desk chair.

“I’ll be sitting right here keeping watch,” Harris says to Darius’ questioning look as he positions the chair by the foot of the bed. His back will be against the wall which gives him a line of sight that covers the expanse of the room. “I’ll be able to see anything the might come in. Now, take a seat.”

Darius finally does after a little more hesitation. For several minutes he just sits there. For part of it, he looks around the room, then he stares at his shoes.

“Leave them on,” Harris eventually says.

“But, I should…”

“Leave them.” Harris isn’t rough in his tone, but still forceful, hoping that Darius will begin to give in to his commands and let him take over. Darius finally nods and lays down. He’s stiff and curled on his side with his head down in the corner. He can see anything that comes and Harris knows without looking that Darius is scanning the room.

“You’re going to have to close your eyes at some point or the half-hour never begins,” Harris says with a slight tease.

“You never said that.”

“I thought it was implied.”

There’s a long stretch of silence between them in which Darius seems to grow tenser.

“Breathe, Darius.” Once Harris hears Darius take a few breathes, he starts counting to three so that Darius will control his breathing more. They’ve done this before and Darius quickly settles into the pattern. It takes several minutes of breathing exercises, interrupted occasionally by Darius starting as his mind starts moving and thinking, but Darius’ eyes do begin to close of their own accord. Harris slowly stops counting, letting his voice grow lower as Darius’ body slips into the beginnings of sleep.

Quickly, he sees a twitching start, first behind the man’s eyes and then in his hands. A last memory before he slips off into sleep fully. Harris begins to touch Darius’ hair, not wanting to startle the man out of the restful state but hoping that this method still works on an older, more hardened Darius. From touching his hair, Harris moves to a more gentle moving his hand through. It’s not quite petting but more a bit of a massage. Darius, when they’d first met and become quick friends, had responded well to this when he’d worked himself into a sleepless, frenzied state and it was the only way to get him to fully settle. Darius once told him that his mother used to do it when he was sick and all the time he grew up with his uncle he longed for the same touch, dreamt of her comforting hand, knowing that nothing like that would ever come from Nick.

It works just as it did before. In time, Harris stops moving his hand and just leaves it until Darius shifts to dislodge it. The longer the man can sleep, the better for him and them. Recovery will happen but it’s going to take some work. As he sits there watching over his old friend, he texts Jillian to let her know that everything’s been resolved for now and to take the rest of the day off. He knows she’s probably exhausted herself after having to deal with Darius for a week in this state. Harris also texts Grace and Liam, though he knows that Darius has severed the ties between them. Harris knows that it’s a self-preservation move for Darius. He still cares for the young man like family much as he still does with Alycia. The three have managed to hurt each other as only family can, but Harris knows that Liam isn’t gone forever and he suspects the same might be true of Alycia.


	13. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Fantasy World AU) Liam finds himself the odd man out when Darius and Alycia build a snow fort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Friendly fire
> 
> This takes place in the fantasy AU (formerly Camelot AU) I created because I was bored with the modern setting for Salvation. This story takes place several years before "The Last Rescue." Liam is 10 and Alycia 11. Darius is 17/18, I haven't quite decided. Please enjoy.

He does not have the time for such frivolities as playing in the snow. No, he stops that train of thought. That is his uncle Nicholas speaking, a rising member of the nobility in a kingdom far from here. His uncle believes that free time, play time such as time spent building castles in the snow was a waste of time and lacked in the proper mental stimulation. Working with Alycia to build a castle, however, didn’t seem lacking in any sort of mental stimulation as the young girl wanted to be able to use it, to at the very least walk inside and throw snowballs at Liam. He’d drawn the line at the drawbridge because he didn’t see how he could effectively make the doors pull up.

“Make sure you’re not going out on to the lake, Liam,” Darius calls out when he spots Liam wandering around. The young boy gives a grumble and kicks at the snow before trudging along. Liam had been the first of the two he found, cold and weak in the forest. It’d been just over a year since he welcomed the young boy into his home. At ten, the boy is scrawny and short but very quick in thought. Alycia is much the same, though she stumbled up just yards from their house. While not as scrawny, she was ill when she came and Darius thought she’d die. It’s only recently that she settled on staying around. Aside from their company and caring for them, instructing them is Darius’ favorite activity with them. They are eager to learn and challenge him to consider problems in new ways.

Darius keeps an eye out for Liam, though he’s not worried about the boy wandering into too much danger. His is the only house for a mile and very few people come this way. He’s dangerous to them for practicing magic, which is preposterous he thinks because magic isn’t that bad and it’s not even magic he’s practicing. It’s science. One day they’ll come to understand though.

He and Alycia are finishing work on one of the castle towers when Darius hears something coming towards him and Alycia tell him to look out. He turns in time to be smacked painfully by a hard snowball. Darius stumbles as another couple come flying towards him. The last of the trio doesn’t break apart completely and sends waves of sharp pain through his face until seconds later he collapses backward.

When he comes to, he hears Liam and Alycia arguing, their loud fighting making the pounding in his head worse. His face aches equally as bad and there’s something wet and dried on his face. Blood, he assumes.

“Stop it, you two,” Darius says with as much force as he can muster. When they don’t respond, he pushes himself upright, which makes his vision go black, the pounding in his head turn to a sharp pickaxe, and dizziness to set it. It does, however, gather their attention when he collapses back to the ground with a loud groan.

“You shouldn’t move, Darius,” Alycia says. “Liam hit you with a piece of ice.”

“I didn’t mean to do it. And it was supposed to hit your stupid castle anyway,” Liam says, voice rising above hers.

“Why’d you want to hit my castle? You didn’t even want anything to do with it.” Alycia’s voice tops Liam’s.

“’Cause it’s stupid, that’s why.”

“Both of you, stop it.” Darius takes a careful breath, covering his eyes with his hand. “We’ll sort out what happened later. Right now, I’d very much like to get inside where it’s warm. Can you two help me up? I’m not sure I can manage to stand upright on my own at the moment.”

“That’s your fault,” Alycia spits out.

“Stop it, now.” Darius cuts Liam off with as firm a voice as he can manage. With the throbbing pain in his face and the pounding in his head, he’s feeling decidedly weak and has no energy to deal with two squabbling kids.

“Sorry, Darius,” they both mutter.

“Thank you. Now, please, help me out of this cold snow. The last thing any of us needs is some sickness going around.” Darius really can’t afford it as they subsist on whatever odd jobs he can get while being the local pariah. Liam and Alycia are old enough to work, but he’d rather they focus on their education and enjoy being kids. He won’t be his uncle.

Getting him standing is a messy, difficult process. He tries to help as much as he can, but he thinks that he’s more a hindrance with his flailing limbs and unsteady feet. The two kids come up just past his waist, making it awkward as they lend their support in walking him the several yards back home but they are determined kids and won’t back down easily from a challenge. He throws up a few times which rattles his head even more and he’s sure that he passes out but eventually, they do get him inside, straight to his bed.

“Let’s get him out of his clothes first,” Liam says. “He shouldn’t go to bed with wet clothes. Especially ones that are cold. He might get sick.”

“Good idea. We should get the fire going, too, that way he’ll get warmed up quickly. And some warm mead. That’ll help,” Alycia says.

“You take care of that and I’ll help him with his clothes.”

Alycia goes off to start working on getting the fire going hotter and then works in the kitchen at getting something warm for Darius. Meanwhile, Liam starts working on Darius’ boots. Darius, for his part, lets the two of them work, finding that he doesn’t have the energy to do much more than listening for if something goes seriously wrong and to sit up, moving when Liam says.

“This should help to clean up his face, Liam.” Alycia holds out a bowl of water and a towel. Darius sees the steam rising from the water. Liam thanks her and takes the bowl, setting it aside while he goes back to getting Darius dressed in sleeping clothes. Lying down, his head cushioned by a couple pillows, Liam starts working on gently clearing away the blood. Alycia comes back in with a drink with some herbs for the headache, which they help him to carefully drink.

“Now, why couldn’t you two cooperate like this earlier,” Darius asks as he watches Alycia walk back after he’s drank the herbed drink.

“I don’t know.” Liam shrugs his shoulders as he works. Though he tries to be gentle, the area is swelling and tender and Darius can’t help the winces. He holds back as much as he can because he doesn’t want to scare the boy away.

“No, I think you know what’s going on. You’ve been acting up more lately. Doing things to cause trouble and get scolded. Why?” Darius turns his attention back to Liam.

“It’s what kids do, right?”

“You’ve never not gotten in trouble but you’ve never been this mischievous. Tell me, Liam, what’s going on? Are you unhappy here? Did I do something wrong? Have I hurt you in some way?”

Liam shakes his head. There’s silence as Liam continues working and Darius thinks. Then, there’s a quiet sniffling and Darius looks up to see a pair of tears coming down Liam’s reddened cheeks.

“Liam.” Darius pushes himself to a sitting position, ignoring the dizziness and pain. “Come here. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” Liam wipes away the tears and tries to go back to clearing off the blood, but Darius stops him.

“This isn’t nothing, Liam. What’s wrong?”

“I’m s… sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was r… really aiming for the castle n… not you.” Liam’s sobbing picks up as he speaks.

“Why though, Liam? You said you didn’t want to help. You didn’t care about the castle.”

“You were playing with her,” Liam spits out as the waterworks reach a new height. Darius pulls the boy into a tight embrace as he cries. “The more you… spend time with her… the less you’ll spend time… with me and I’ll… I’ll have to leave again.”

“Liam, that would never happen. Losing you would be like losing my left arm. How would I even function? I couldn’t. Alycia is new to our family, but she’ll never replace you just like you’ll never replace her. I love the two of you equally.”

“But you two were having so much fun and didn’t care where I was going.” The intensity of Liam’s sobbing has calmed and he’s shifted his head sideways so he can speak.

“I saw everywhere you were heading, Liam. And yes, I was having fun but part of that is because building is fun and I enjoy spending time with you two. But I always knew where you were, even when you stepped foot on the lake when I told you to stay away from it.”

Liam swallows loudly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t do it again, especially when I tell you not to. You could’ve fallen in and we’d’ve lost you and then what would we have done. Right, Alycia?” Darius knows that she’s standing at the entrance of the room.

“Yeah.” Darius can detect some tears in her own voice.

“Come here, Alycia.” Darius pats the bed on the other side of him. Alycia is hesitant in her steps but does come to sit on the bed next to him, setting the mug of mead on a table. He puts a hand around her shoulder and brings her in close as he gives both a one-armed hug.

“Now, the both of you should always remember that I want you here as long as you want to stay. You are welcomed and wanted. Not a burden in the slightest. And, if you should ever feel in question of that, please come talk with me rather than throwing ice chunks. Neither of you is more wanted than another but you do sometimes have different needs and that may mean that I give one more attention at one time than another. Do you two understand?”

Both of the kids nod, teary-eyed.

“No, I want to hear you,” Darius says, a playfulness in his voice despite the continued pain.

“Yes,” the two say, one after the other.

“Good.”

“You should drink your mead,” Alycia says after a pause.

“Nuh,” Darius says, eyes closed, face pale.

“Let’s just let him rest, Alycia. We can keep him warm,” Liam says. Neither him nor Alycia have moved from their spots on either side of Darius, though the one-armed grip is slack now. There’s something comforting they both find in sitting there. As Darius slips deeper into sleep, he settles down more into the bed, taking the two kids with him as they too doze.

None are interrupted when Harris enters after a few knocks gets no answer.

“Darius,” Harris says, voice filling the quiet house.

“Quiet, ‘arris,” Darius says.

“There was blood outside.” Harris comes into the bedroom.

“’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are.” Harris assesses his friend, seeing that despite the remaining blood, pinched face, bruising and swollen face, and pale features, Darius does seem to be fine and the kids are asleep, soundly. He’d quietly doubted if Darius taking in two runaway kids was the best. The young man was a child himself in many ways and hadn’t had the best childhood, but they looked the perfect family there.

“I’ll wake you up later to check on you, okay.” Harris sees Darius nod slightly as his eyes slip closed again. Then, he goes out to the kitchen where he takes care of the fire that Alycia left going, making sure that it won’t have a chance of burning the house down. He sets a pot of stew going, with meat scraps Grace gave him. Darius gets by on very little and any meat he does get usually goes to the two kids. This will supplement their meager stocks. Then, Harris settles in to watch over the family.


	14. A Quest for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Fantasy AU) Alycia runs into some trouble going into town to get Darius help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Self-sacrifice
> 
> This one takes place in the fantasy AU. In previous stories set in this AU, the kingdom was Camelot, which I've changed to Echkart to separate it from any potential crossovers with Merlin.

Alycia has never been in Echkart on her own, not even the lower levels of town. Darius would never let her or Liam go even though they begged and pleaded, stating that they’d been in worse. Now she understands why. The streets are packed with people and carts going in every direction and merchants calling out. She’s forgotten how noisy people can be living as far out as they do. But she has a goal here, she reminds herself. Darius and Liam need her and she needs to find Harris.

She asks some of the people around her and they seem to know of him but only a few point her in the right direction. The others laugh and scoff at her, telling her a knight won’t having anything to do with a peasant girl like her. It takes a lot of impatient, worried minutes but she does find her way up towards the castle but two guards keep her from entering the training field where she thinks she can see Harris.

“Harris,” she calls out. “Har…” One of the guards muzzles her with a hand, picking her up roughly and throwing her to the ground yards from the entrance.

“If you interfere with knight activities again, it’ll be the dungeons for you,” he says with a sneer.

“My friend needs help,” she says with a sob. Darius had helped her and Liam to recover from a terrible illness but had fallen ill himself and he wasn’t getting better. They needed Harris’ help. But she couldn’t even get in to see him. No one would help her and that means that Darius is going to die and her and Liam would be back on the run. She never liked crying. It always got her the wrong kind of attention with her dad and meant more training but she couldn’t stand the thought of losing the one home she’s ever loved, the one adult who ever gave any real concern about how she was.

“Are you hurt,” a woman asks. She’s kneeled down in front of her and when Alycia looks up, red-cheeked and teary-eyed, she sees a woman dressed plainly but still with an air of elegance. She’s young like Darius but pale and unworn.

Alycia shakes her head before saying no.

“Are you lost?”

“No.”

“Where do you live?”

“On the edge of the forest.”

“The edge of the forest? There’s only one person who lives there. Darius. Do you live with him?”

“Why?” Liam and Alycia have learned to be cautious of people asking if they lived with Darius. Just that was enough to make them pariahs as well, figuring that Darius must be tainting their pure minds.

“I’m a friend of his. I’m Grace.”

She sounds nice, Alycia thinks, but people pretend to be a lot of things and a lot of times none of it is true. But everything would be lost if Darius died, so maybe trusting this Grace just this once wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I live with him. He’s sick and I came to find Harris to see if he can help,” Alycia says.

“Darius is sick? Harris said he was fine the last time he was down there, just looking after the two of you.”

“And he was but then he got sick and he’s really hot and breathing harsh and talking about things we don’t understand. Liam’s with him but we don’t know exactly what to do to help him. We thought Harris would know. And I tried to get him, but the guards wouldn’t let me past.” She points to the guards.

“I see. Well, let’s go get him then.” Grace stands and holds her hand out for Alycia.

“But they won’t let anyone past and they said I’d go to the dungeon if I tried again.”

“They won’t if you’re with me. Now, let’s go get Harris and save Darius. That man never knows how to stay out of trouble,” she adds under her breath. Alycia stands and takes Grace’s hand but walks just behind Grace so the guards don’t see her. When they come to the gate, she expects the same treatment but the guards simply step aside as Grace walks straight in taking Alycia with her. The knights continue their training as they pass, Grace walking straight to where Harris is demonstrating a technique to a group of squires. He stops as soon as he sees her.

“Grace, what are you doing down here,” Harris asks. Then he sees the shorter familiar body behind Grace. “Alycia? Shouldn’t you be back home? Where’s Darius?” He knows that Darius doesn’t allow the two to wander in the city alone for fear of what might happen to them. He himself has been randomly attacked for false beliefs that he’s caused illness or misfortune and the last thing he wants is Liam and Alycia to experience the same.

“At home. He’s really sick. I think he’s dying. I came here to get you to help him,” Alycia says, stepping out from behind Grace. Harris is a regular visitor to their house.

“Sick? I shouldn’t be surprised but I’d hoped he would escape illness. Let’s go then.”

“I’m going to get some supplies that we’ll need,” Grace says.

“We? You can’t go out with us,” Harris says.

“I can’t? I have before and I will again. And if he is so ill, then I won’t stay up here while he suffers. You go speak with Hugh. Take Alycia with you. She’s safer here than in the castle.” Grace lets go of Alycia, who happily moves closer to Harris before going back to the castle.

“I just have to let Hugh know to take over my duties for the day and then we’ll go. Alright, Alycia,” Harris asks as they start walking. Alycia keeps close. While the knights are interesting to watch, they’re also scary in their armor and weapons and standing so tall.

“Can you save him?”

“I’ll do everything I can. Darius is a fighter.”

The talk with Hugh is quick. Harris is lucky that the senior knight doesn’t hold the same grudges against Darius as many of the townspeople and royalty do. Hugh gives him leave to take care of Darius. Harris has word sent to Grace to meet them in the stables, then he and Alycia go to get the horses ready. It’s not a long trek out to the house where Darius lives, but he doesn’t want to spend the time walking and it’ll be an easier escape for Grace if she’s not amongst the townspeople for long.

When Grace enters the stable, she’s dressed like a man, though she has a cloak with a hood that will pull up far over her face. They quickly saddle up and head out. Alycia enjoys her ride, sitting safely in front of Harris as he navigates the busy streets. It’s only when they’re out past the city walls that they can begin to pick up speed and quickly cover the distance to Darius’ home.

Once there, they quickly dismount, tie the horses, and enter the house. Liam greets them at the door, frantic and teary-eyed.

“He won’t wake up, Alycia. He won’t wake up,” Liam says, his voice picking up in speed and tone.

“Let’s go see what’s going on, Liam,” Harris says, forcing a calm he doesn’t feel. “Tell me how he’s been.” Harris leads the way to the bedroom where he expects Darius is with Liam close behind and the others behind them.

“He’s really sick. It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a cough and fever. Nothing like us and then he just got worse. He couldn’t breathe and couldn’t eat anything. We barely get him to drink anything and his fever’s so high he’s hallucinating things. I can’t get him to be calm until now and now he won’t wake up. He’s dying, Harris.”

Harris listens to Liam as he does his own evaluation of Darius: pale save for the red from fever, sweaty, hair disheveled, coughing as he breaths heavily and with a clear congestion. Underneath the clothes and sickness, Harris sees something more troubling, Darius is thin. The muscle definition that was there is faded and his skin is tight. There’s more than illness going on here.

“Not if I have my say. What have you been doing for him,” Harris asks.

“Cool water. We used up the last of the herbs a couple days ago.” Liam shrinks back as he explains what he’s done. They’d tried rationing out the herbs after seeing how little there was, but they’d still ran out before Darius got better. He knows that Darius used the herbs to help them.

“Fortunately, I figured that he’d have used everything to help the two of you, not even thinking that he would get sick and need them for himself,” Grace says. “Let’s see what Harris and I can do for him.”

Alycia and Liam stand close by, holding hands as they watch Grace and Harris work. They change his clothes and the bedclothes and give him some herbs and a thicker liquid from a bottle that Grace brought. All the while, Darius remains asleep. He still breathes heavily and crackling, coughing weakly, which is when Harris holds Darius in a sitting position so that Grace can hit his back to help loosen the mucus. It’s hard for them all, but with each treatment, they notice at least a temporary ease in Darius’ breathing giving them hope for his recovery.

It’s well into the next day, nearly nightfall when Darius’ fever finally breaks and they can all breath a sigh of relief. Alycia and Liam, who had thus far only dozed in the chairs they had around the bed or on the foot of the bed itself, fall asleep with the knowledge that Darius will get better. They’re laying next to each other, with feet at opposite ends on the foot of Darius’ bed. They’re a bit too long for the width, but exhaustion wins over discomfort. It leaves Grace and Harris to watch over Darius, who has yet to wake. They continue with the various treatments as they sit side by side in chairs at the side of the bed.

“He shouldn’t’ve gotten so sick,” Harris says.

“It might’ve been him running himself ragged taking care of Liam and Alycia. They had this before,” Grace says.

“They weren’t this sick. It was an unpleasant illness to be sure, but nothing severe so long as they rested.” Harris sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not been taking care of himself, again.”

“What about the food scraps I’ve been giving you for him?”

“I’ve been sticking them in his pantry or in the stew he has going. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“He knows about it,” Liam says, voice rough with sleep. He turns to see them.

“What,” Harris asks.

“He knows what you’ve been doing and he makes sure that we eat first,” Alycia says, propping herself up on her arms to look at the others.  

“But it should be enough with the work he’s getting,” Grace says.

“He hasn’t been working. No one wants to hire someone who dabbles in magic even though it’s not magic.” Alycia makes her dislike of the people clear as she scowls when she speaks.

“He said he’d been working,” Harris says.

“I thought it was getting easier for him. He’s not been arrested for a year almost. Even the King’s forgotten about him,” Grace says.

“He thinks we don’t know, but we overheard him talking to someone trying to get a job and they wouldn’t hire him because they said he was a warlock,” Liam says.

“We thought he was eating enough, though. He does eat but it’s not always a lot,” Alycia says.

“But remember sometimes when he stands he almost passes out and has to sit back down.” Liam looks back at Alycia. “And he can’t keep hold of his tools or think clearly.”

“How long has this been going on,” Harris asks.

“A month or two, I think. We didn’t think it would make this be this sick. Really. We would’ve said something.”

“We try to sneak food back into his bowl when we can or leave it for him to eat but he never does,” Alycia says.

“Stupid idiot,” Harris says lowly. At that, Darius mutters something but continues sleeping.

“We have to get him some work,” Grace says.

“Hugh likes him fairly well. Maybe there’s something he can build for the knights’ training. We’d have to clear it with Benedictus, though.”

“I can work on that. He’s been in a good mood lately and if we’re not too specific about who it is, then we might able to get something going.”

“Can you really get him work,” Alycia asks.

“With some work, yes, I believe we can,” Grace says. “And if he does some work for the king, others are likely to hire him.”

“Good. He’s happy when he has work.” With that, she settles back to sleep and Liam follows soon after. Grace and Harris resolve to remain through the night to ensure that Darius has made it past the worst. Hopefully, by then, he’ll wake. In the meantime, while watching over him, the concoct plans to fill his pantry and ensure that he eats enough to regain his strength.


	15. A Chill in the Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (FantasyAU) Darius is saved from drowning by a stranger but he's not doing well in the aftermath, much to the worry of Liam and Alycia.

He’s not sure exactly how he’s still alive. When he was forced underwater to test his worthiness, he’d assumed that would be his last moments of living. The trial had been a sham, it always was because it tested worthiness by drowning and ensured that the accused would die regardless of their guilt or innocence. But he didn’t. As he lays in front of the fire of their campsite, he thinks it was supposed to be Liam. The young man had been playing around with some chemicals and was spotted. Fortunately, Liam’s grown a lot over the last couple of years and the two are nearly the same height and build so from a distance, they can pass as each other. And Darius knows that it didn’t matter who the townspeople subject to their stupid trial, someone must be made an example.

Without warning, he shivers violently and lets out a string of loud, hacking coughs that make him turn on his side before Liam can get to him and help him to sit up. Liam’s guilt has consumed him and it’s only Alycia and Alonzo’s, Darius’ rescuer, proddings that have gotten him to rest. Darius doesn’t have the energy to push him away. And, selfish though it may be, seeing him, having him near is a comfort because it means he’s alive.

“You’re getting worse,” Liam says, worry clear in his words and face.

“It’s been a couple of days, Liam,” Alycia says, coming to kneel on the other side of Darius, helping Liam to hold him steady as he continues coughing. He’s been coughing a lot since Alonzo pulled him out of the river. They were there when they saw the strange black man pull the man who’d become their father in many respects from the quickly moving water. With Darius pale and barely breathing, trusting the strange man hadn’t been a concern as the three worked together to save Darius. Yesterday afternoon, he’d spent a few hours simply coughing up water and struggling to get any bit of warmth in him. Even after changing into dry clothes, sitting next to the fire under layers of blankets, and drinking warmed mead Darius couldn’t get the chill out of his bones.

“J…just a li…ttle cold,” Darius says as he shivers and breathes roughly.

“Yeah, right,” Alonzo says. “The coughing and breathing I can’t do much for. But I might be able to help some with the chills.”

“Nothing’s working. What’re you going to do,” Liam asks.

“Bring him back to me here.” Alonzo sits down facing the fire, his feet a few feet from the fire. He’s removed his cloak so he just has his tunic, shivering lightly in the cool air. “Let’s see how sharing body heat works.” Liam and Alycia gently coax Darius into moving so that he sits in between Alonzo’s legs, his back against Alonzo’s chest. Darius is a slighter, less muscular man than Alonzo, making the position a little easier as Alonzo wraps his arms around the quiet, shivering man.

“Put some blankets on him and around us to try to capture as much of the heat as possible,” Alonzo says. He doesn’t know much about this trio other than Darius didn’t deserve the punishment he got and not just because he wasn’t the one who committed the crime, but he knows that they care about each other. Darius’ first worry when he came to was for Liam and Alycia and theirs was for him. The two hadn’t slept much since he pulled Darius out of the water. In other cases, he might’ve gone on by this point. With two people looking after him, Darius would surely have enough help in recovering. But Alonzo found he couldn’t move on when he should. He wants to stay to make sure that Darius recovers and to help Liam and Alycia. Someone has to tell them to rest.

“Will this work,” Liam asks.

“It has with others but I can’t be sure. The shivering is good but I’m concerned because he can’t get warm. Part of that is the fever, but it’s been a couple of days. He should be able to maintain some warmth.”

“Let’s get dinner going, Liam,” Alycia says. They’ve wrapped as many blankets as they dare around Alonzo and Darius. Already she can see Alonzo beginning to sweat underneath. The man is a mystery she can’t figure out. It’s rare that anyone would dare interfere with a trial to avoid incurring the wrath of the townspeople. Even more, he’s stayed around when he doesn’t have to and he’s helping. She wants to know what he wants. Nobody does good deeds for no reason. Except maybe Darius and Harris and Grace. They’re happy to help and don’t ask for anything in return.

“The broth’s not going to help. He’s sick, Alycia,” Liam says. “And it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s those narrowminded townspeople’s fault. If they could just see that even if you were practicing magic that wouldn’t be the worst thing, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But he’s really sick and it should’ve been me.” Liam dumps some herbs into the pan while Alycia gets the meat cut. Darius won’t eat any of the stew. They’d tried this morning and what little he ate, came back up not long after. They’d thin out the stew broth, weakening the flavor so it was easier on his body and hopefully they’d be able to get him to drink it again.

Alycia bites her tongue at telling Liam the truth. She’s always been blunt. Darius and Liam are used to it but she knows that now’s not the time for such harshness.

“Darius made his choice,” she says. “He knew the outcome. That he’s alive now is something we should be grateful for.”

“Yes, but will he stay that way? Alive that is.”

“I don’t know, Liam. But I’m not giving up on him.”

“I didn’t say I was.” He finishes preparing the stew and sets it over the fire.

“I know.” Alycia follows behind him. They stand on the other side of the fire from Alonzo and Darius. From here, Darius does look really sick. He’s pale, feverish, coughing, and shivering. Worse, is the listless look to his face. He’s exhausted from nearly drowning, coughing up all of the water, shivering, and still more coughing. As much as she tries to exude confidence to Liam, she is worried about Darius. Though he was healthy before this, exhaustion could take him. They routinely hit his back, all over as Grace showed them to do many years ago, to help with his breathing and coughing.

“Worrying isn’t going to help right now, Liam. We just have to do what we can to help him,” she says. “And right now, we’re doing all we can. He’s fought off a lot in the past. I’m sure he can fight this sickness as well.”

“I know.” Liam can’t help the worrying side of him. It’s been there ever since he could remember. His mother understood but the kids in his village didn’t. His mother’s death was the worst day of his life. And he knows that Darius’ would be the second. Darius had been kind to him when he didn’t have to be, taken him in, clothed and fed him and gave him a roof over his head as well as an education. And all the while he barely could keep himself going. Darius would’ve been better off if he’d left Liam and Alycia to the elements but he hadn’t. Liam’s never forgotten his mother or her lessons, but Darius had helped him a lot as well. He’d taught him to trust himself and not worry so much. So much for those lessons sticking.

“We should get some more wood for the fire,” Liam says.

Once Liam and Alycia have wandered off, Alonzo asks Darius how he’s doing.

“A bit warmer. Thanks,” Darius says softly. Speaking, breathing, even Alonzo’s hands around his chest hurts. His ribs are sore and his throat raw. If it weren’t helping with the constant chill, he would’ve found a way out of Alonzo’s grasp.

“Your kids are worried about you.”

“Not my kids.”

“Family doesn’t have to be blood.”

Darius nods lightly. “I would… do any…thing for them.”

“You did.” Alonzo is quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Other than the cold being a little better, how is everything else?”

“Sore, hurting, nauseous, hot.” Darius pauses to breathe, coughing. He tenses with the pain and holds his chest as best as he can. “I’m w…worried.”

“That you’re not going to make it?”

“There is… an exhau’tion… that I… I can’t…” Darius trails off as he breaks into another coughing fit. When he’s done, Alonzo is alarmed by Darius sagging weightlessly against him.

“Darius?”

“’ere.” Darius breathes heavily, chest moving in fits as his lungs crackle. “Can’t keep…”

“Going,” Alonzo finishes for him when it’s clear that speaking is beyond what Darius can do right now. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. You don’t get to die after all the work I did in saving you. Not to mention, what are your kids going to do if you died? You can’t leave them alone. Not when they’ve already lost one family.”

“’urts.”

“I know it does and we’d give you something for it but the only herb I have that could help won’t help with your breathing. You’re going to have to find that fire that got you through the other shit you’ve been through and use that to get yourself through this, with our help of course.” Alonzo had seen the scars when they got Darius changed into dry clothes. Anyone with those kinds of scars had seen some bad times and he was sure could get through this, pain and suffering and all.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“You… stay?”

“Not sure of that one myself but once I saw the three of you together, I knew I couldn’t just leave without making sure that you’d survive.”

“No… gold.”

“I’m not in this for gold. If you live and the three of you go on somewhere else to find a new home, I’ll be happy.”

“Th…thank… you.”

“Just keep your promise.”

“Didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You promised those kids that you’d do everything that you had to look after them.” Alonzo assumes that if Darius has never actually told Liam and Alycia this, he’s made the promise to himself. No one sentences themselves to die for another without having made that promise to someone. “And that means, taking your medicine when we give it to you, drinking the broth when it’s time, sleeping, and letting us help you when you can’t.”

Darius nods. “O…kay.”

“Good. When Liam and Alycia come back with wood for the fire, the stew should be ready and you’re going to have some broth to drink.”

As Darius sits, still in Alonzo’s embrace, feeling the effects of his illness as it attacks his body from his bones to his head and chest, he finds himself grateful that they’ve managed to be found and taken in by Alonzo. In his feverish mind with half-formed thoughts, he does realize that he shouldn’t trust this stranger completely but there’s no other option. If he’s going to recover, they need help and without this man, he would be dead. It’s not the same as Harris and Grace who have known him for so long, but Alonzo seems a good man and more than capable of helping. Darius also trusts Liam and Alycia to get a good sense of Alonzo and if they’ve decided that he’s safe, then Darius is okay.

At the moment, Darius doesn’t see an end to this illness. Breathing and dealing with the pain the comes, hoping that it doesn’t trigger another coughing fit consumes his thoughts. The fever, headache, nasal congestion, and aches in his bones, he can deal with. Combined with the breathing, however, it’s exhausting. As he lets his mind drift, he decides to just give himself over to Liam, Alycia, and Alonzo, trusting in their wisdom and care to help him. His sole focus is to keep on breathing because he has to live for them. Liam and Alycia are family, his family, and he won’t leave them alone in this world again.

 


	16. Obstinate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Torture

“You’re blowing this out of proportion, Darius,” Liam says. “It’s nothing big that we’re asking. Just a little time. A short break.”

“A short break? Do you realize how much it takes to run this company? If I take a break, then this company will go haywire. I haven’t taken a vacation in years, Liam.” Darius paces around the Treehouse main room, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

“All the more reason that you need to take a break. Think of the last six months, Darius. You’ve been tortured twice, shot, in a coma. And you’re still not fully over the last bout of torture.”

“I’m fine,” he says tersely.

“How’s the headache?”

Darius growls lightly and turns away from Liam. He has work to do on implementing the newly tested nanotech and many new customers around the world thanks to the work he and his company did in attempting to save the planet. Many of the Re/Syst scientists have gone home but some have stuck around to work on projects, further boosting his company’s credibility.

“You need to take a break, Darius. If you don’t, you’re going to collapse.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Liam. Now, get back to work.”

Liam sighs, deciding to give in. He meant what he said several months ago in the forest when they thought Russia nukes were going to wipe out their hopes of stopping the asteroid, that working for Darius hadn’t always been a pleasure. The man is stubborn and Liam knows that he won’t get him to budge. Instead, he’ll just have to keep an eye on him and enlist Alycia and TESS as well in case the man wanders out of his sight.

Looking after Darius for the day until his body forces him to take the break they’ve asked him to take proves more difficult than Liam thought. The man seems intent on escaping him today. Still, with the help of Alycia and TESS, he’s able to find out how Darius is doing. He knows that the headache grows worse during the day, with Darius squinting and wincing at the light, turning down the lighting in the rooms he enters. He also knows that Darius has had several more attacks as they’ve been calling the sharp waves of noise that hit his ears and make him clasp his head in pain. He’s in pain and has refused all of the food offered to him, sipping on water only. In short, Darius is set for a collapse and Liam just hopes that someone is there to catch him when his body says it’s had enough.

When that collapse does come, it’s night and it’s TESS who informs him. They’d had dinner an hour ago when they finally managed to convince Darius to sit for long enough to attempt to eat. Pale and shaky, he picked at his food but Liam and Alycia didn’t push him to eat, in part because he did eat a little. But they also know that part of is refusal is nausea from the constant headache.

Rushing out of his room, Liam runs into Alycia on the way to the Treehouse. It was little over a half hour ago when the two of them gave up the ship, leaving Darius to his work with the knowledge that TESS was looking after him and would alert them, as she did.

Entering the Treehouse, the two easily spot Darius next to his drafting board, collapsed on the floor and rush to his side.

“Darius,” Liam asks hoping for a response. He’s not surprised when he doesn’t get one, however.

“He feels warm,” Alycia says. “And he’s a bit flushed.”

“Fever?”

“Very likely. He’s pushed himself too hard. TESS, what happened before he passed out?”

“He was in pain. His blood pressure and heart rate increased and then he collapsed,” TESS says.

“Sounds like he had a really bad attack,” Liam says. Darius groans then, shifting and wincing. He pales before throwing up, giving Liam and Alycia little warning to get him more upright so he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Most of what he brings up is bile, but the remnants of the little bit of dinner come up too. When he’s done, he collapses back into their arms with little awareness of where he is.

“Darius,” Alycia says.

Darius moans but doesn’t speak.

“Let’s get him to his bedroom,” Liam says. “We can get his temperature and let him rest while we decide what to do.”

“Alright. Let’s get up, Darius,” Alycia says.

“Wha’?” Darius’ voice is quiet and pained.

“Up, Darius. We need to get you up on your feet so you can go rest in bed,” Liam says.

“Work.”

“No, it’s time to rest and for more than the few days we’d asked you to.”

“‘ine.”

“No, you’re not,” Liam says. “You’ve passed out and just threw up, Darius. When are you going to admit that you need to take a break?”

“No, Liam. Maybe he’s right,” Alycia says.

“What are you doing?” Liam gives her a confused look. She shakes her head as she continues talking to Darius.

“Let’s make a deal, Darius,” she says. “If you can get to your feet and stand on your own for more than three minutes, then we’ll let you go. If not, then you listen to us and let your body rest until you’re healthy again. Okay?”

“D… deal,” Darius says.

“Alright then. Let’s see. You’ve got three chances to get to your feet.”

Darius nods and takes a breath before shifting to try to get his feet under him. It’s painstakingly long for Liam and Alycia as they watch him try. Just as he manages to get on his hands and knees, he’s hit with another attack that makes his arms bend and he gasps loudly.

“That’s one,” Alycia says. The second and third attempt go little better as Darius isn’t even able to get anywhere near standing. After the third try, he falls to the side, giving Liam little time to catch him.

“Well, I think that settles it,” Alycia says, exasperation clear. Darius moans.

“Let’s get him to bed,” Liam says. Getting him on his feet is tricky, especially as Darius tries to help but his limbs are weak and tend to bend unexpectantly more than help to hold his weight. It means that once they get him standing, Alycia and Liam support him on either side, doing their best to ignore the cries of pain. Once in his bedroom, they set him down on the bed and help him to lay back. While Liam works on getting his shoes off, Alycia grabs the thermometer and sticks it in Darius’ mouth. The man doesn’t react to their ministrations other than wincing at the pain caused by moving.

“He’s got a fever. Not bad enough to cause alarm,” Alycia says.

“At least there’s that,” Liam says. He sits on the bed next to Darius. “Darius, how’re you feeling?”

“Hurts.” Darius’ voice is weak.

“What hurts,” Alycia asks.

“Head. Hurts.”

“Anything else? Other than your head hurting,” Liam asks.

“Sick, hot.”

“Maybe we need to call the doctor.”

“Sick like a cold or sick like nauseous,” Alycia asks.

“Nau…” Darius begins but it cut off when he starts coughing which quickly turns to throw up. Liam gets him to a sitting position while Alycia grabs a trash can to stick under his chin. After this last bout of vomiting, he has nothing more in his stomach, leaving him with the dry heave. When he’s finished, he groans loudly and Liam helps him to lay back down. Alycia takes the trash can to the bathroom and comes back with a wet washcloth to clean his face. It’s then that she notices Darius hasn’t opened his eyes.

“Darius, is the light painful,” Alycia asks. He nods slightly, wincing. “TESS, turn down the lights to ten percent over the bed and thirty by the door.”

“A migraine,” Liam says with sudden realization. The doctor had warned them of migraines being a possibility if he didn’t give his body a chance to heal.

“Yeah. I’m going to see what we have to give him.” As Alycia goes into the bathroom in search of medicine, ibuprofen at the very least, Liam turns to take care of Darius.

“You feel like throwing up anymore,” he asks quietly.

“Don’t think so.” Darius’ voice is raspy and low as he lays there, eyes firmly shut, trying to put aside the constant ache in his head and churning in his stomach. He tries taking a deep breath, breathing carefully through his nose, but the nausea still goes on. Liam sees Darius’ struggle with his stomach, how he seems to be a constant shade of green and goes to the bathroom where Alycia’s looking through the vanity for any kind of painkiller.

“Maybe we should call his doctor,” Liam says. “He can barely keep from throwing up.”

“I called her. She said she’s still out of town.”

“And he won’t accept another doctor.” Liam leans against the door frame.

“No, but she did send in a prescription for some painkillers and anti-nausea medication. The pharmacy’s filling them now.”

“So, what’re you looking for?”

“They can’t deliver the prescriptions, so Harris is going to bring them by later. It’ll be quicker than if one of us goes out. So, I’m hoping to find something, but the man seems averse to any type of medication.” With the world still coming to terms with nearly coming to an end and negotiations over the not-an-asteroid, Harris has spent more time at work lately than at home with long meetings and extra paperwork.

“He has bad reactions to most painkillers. There’s a few he can take, but a lot of the others give him problems.”

“How?” Alycia gives him a puzzled look. She’s known the eccentric inventor for longer and still didn’t know about that detail.

“The man’s a trouble magnet. I learned about that painkiller thing after he was waterboarded by the government.”

“Waterboarded?”

“Yeah. He likes to forget about it though,” Liam says.

“Typical Darius. Well, I found a nearly expired bottle of ibuprofen. Can he take that?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know that it’s going to do him any good, especially if he can’t keep the pills down.”

“Let’s try some ginger ale. If he brings it back up, we’ll just leave him be until Harris comes.”

While Alycia goes to the kitchen, Liam grabs a washcloth, soaking it in cool water and wringing it as dry as he can. Back out in the bedroom, Darius has shifted onto his side, curled up and is breathing heavily. Liam folds the washcloth up enough to be able to stick it on Darius’ neck. His mom always used a cold washcloth when he’d get head aches from staying up too long working on a new project. Darius starts at the touch of the cloth but doesn’t say anything.

Once Alycia’s back with the soda, Liam’s let Darius know of their plans. She sticks a straw in the can and gently taps Darius to draw his attention.

“Just a little sip at first. Let’s see if you can keep it down,” Alycia says.

Darius mumbles an okay and takes a small sip of the drink. The reaction is almost immediate. He sits up quickly as the coughing turns to vomiting and the dry heaves. Liam steadies and supports him while Alycia holds the bucket under his mouth. Nothing more than the little bit of soda and some bile comes up.

When Darius is done, he sags back into Liam, who gently lays him back down. With a low moan, Darius turns onto his side. Alycia rinses the bucket out in the bathroom while Liam replaces the cool, wet towel on Darius’ neck.

“I’ve texted Harris that we need to get her ASAP,” Alycia says when Liam joins her in the bathroom. “He’s in too much pain to keep on with this for much longer.”

“He doesn’t have anything else in here that would help?”

“Expired medications. The doctor said not to use them.”

“So he’s stuck.”

“Yeah. We’ll just keep the room dark and quiet and hope that Harris gets here soon.”

Liam nods, glancing back into the bedroom where he sees Darius trying to push himself out of bed.

“Darius, no,” he calls out, ignoring the need to be quiet. He and Alycia rush back into the room, pushing Darius back down on the bed as gently as they can.

“You need to lay back down,” Alycia says.

“… have to wor’,” Darius says, pushing back on them weakly. His voice equally lacks strength as he seems to be running more on autopilot than any active choices.

“You have a migraine. You can’t work.”

“No. No. Projects and people waiting.” Even though they’ve pushed him back on the bed, he’s not given up. He tries pushing up against them but lacks the strength. His limbs shake with the effort of trying to keep going.

“That’s all going to have to wait. You’ve been working yourself too hard lately. Your body’s said enough’s enough.”

“No time for that.”

“If me or Alycia had a migraine, what would you have us do,” Liam asks.

“Not the same,” Darius says.

“Yes, it is. You’d have us rest, wouldn’t you.”

“You’d have us rest because if we didn’t, we’d just make ourselves sicker,” Alycia says. “If you don’t rest now, you’re going to get sicker and that probably will mean the hospital.” She doesn’t like using the hospital as a threat, but she knows how much he dislikes it.

“Harris will be bringing some medication later to help you rest.”

“Harris is here with that medication,” Harris says, surprising the trio. He’s quickly at Darius’ bedside, a disproving look on his face. “Are you giving these two problems, Darius?”

“My work,” Darius says, voice drifting as he protests.

“Yeah, your work. Now, I’m sure this exhaustion that’s given you a migraine has been building over the last few days at least only you’ve ignored it, even as these two urged you to take a break because your work is so much more important than yourself, right?”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t. You wanted to. Now, you’re going to take this medication that I canceled the last of my meetings to go pick up and you’re going to get some rest so you can be back up on your feet in a few days causing us new worries. Okay?”

“Okay.” Darius licks his lips, swallowing heavily.

“Hey, you need the bucket again,” Liam asks.

“No,” Darius says, though there’s a questioning in the weak voice.

“I think I’ll go grab it just in case.”

“Let’s start with the nausea medication,” Harris says. “The note from the doctor via the pharmacist says to take it a half hour before the painkiller to help the painkiller to stay down.” Harris sorts through the bottles, finding the right one and getting the dosage for Darius to take. Liam comes back with the bucket in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Working together, they get Darius up just enough so that he can take the medication before settling him back down.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Liam says to Harris as they and Alycia stand just outside the bedroom, hoping to give Darius some solitude from their talking.

“Yeah, we didn’t expect you for another couple hours,” Alycia says.

“Well, I know Darius and I knew if he got himself so exhausted that he had a migraine, he was going to be difficult to deal with. And that he wouldn’t listen to the doctor who told him to let his body rest or this would happen. And that he’d need that medication quickly. Exhaustion is something that he’s familiar with and it takes a toll on his body,” Harris says. He also knew that as much as Darius respects Liam and Alycia, neither of them has the history with him to stop him in his tracks. In his automated mode that comes from deep exhaustion, Darius stops either when his body refuses to move anymore or when someone, usually Harris, can force him to put a stop to it. Harris has had to do it before, far too often when they were younger and worked the same project as young men. Darius would know his voice instinctively and listen to Harris’ reason.

“He’ll get better,” Harris says, seeing their worry. “Given everything that’s happened to him in the last seven months means he won’t bounce back as quickly as usual, but Darius is used to this happening. Give him a week and he’ll be back to annoying all of us.”


	17. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Manhandling

Darius isn’t quite sure what’s happened to him over the course of the last year. There was the asteroid, which inevitably brought about a certain degree of risk as he worked to find a solution. He expected danger and threats, but he’d thought that once the asteroid issue was solved, at least to the point to where they knew it wasn’t an immediate threat, then it would stop. But, in actuality, the whole year had been terrible, the worse he’d had in years in terms of illness, injury, and threats to be taken to the ER. Though he had made friends in the process, which for the most part is good. But now, as he’s currently nursing the aftermath of a minor accident that happened while he was working on a new space ship that was better than Salvation, his friends are just the people he wants to avoid.

He’d been heading to the Treehouse until TESS alerted him to a meeting he had with Grace, which he told TESS to cancel because meeting Grace right now wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact, it might be the worst idea ever because she’d find his injuries and make him do something about it. No, right now it’s best to go off somewhere and deal with this alone. So, Darius limped to the secondary elevator and to the hallway just outside a storage closet. At the moment, he stands in that very closet, leaning heavily against a shelving unit because his ankle aches. If Liam were to find him, it’d only mean more resting and maybe a hospital visit and that is the last thing he needs because he’s perfectly fine. It’s just a light sprain and maybe some bruised ribs.

He waits in the closet until he’s sure the hallway is clear. It’s one of the lesser-used areas of the building so he should be fine if he can move quickly and get to the conference room on the other end of the hallway. It’s the one conference room that’s never used in part because he’s updated it for his personal workspace.

When he feels like the coast is clear he quietly sneaks out through a crack in the door no bigger than him. At some point, as he’s carefully walking through empty hallways, checking around corners to ensure that no one’s coming, and jumping at any noise, he does consider the silliness of sneaking around his own facility. But only for a moment. The rest of his thoughts are concerned with avoiding Liam and being glad that Alycia is off working elsewhere for the next week.

He just about makes it to the conference room, it’s just around the corner and the fourth door on the right when Liam steps into his path. Darius stops suddenly, wincing when his sprained ankle catches the majority of his weight, bending underneath him. Liam steps forward to steady him, moving him to that he can lean against the wall. In the process, he discovers that he must’ve also burned himself as Liam’s grip on his arm is sharper and more painful than it should be and the longer the hand is there, the more his vision seems to develop dark spots and his hearing moves in and out. And the pain the that shouldn’t have been there, but it’s too sharp to not notice now.

Darius turns his head, seeing Liam’s mouth moving but can’t hear enough to make sense of what he might be saying. The concern, however, he can see despite the spots that keep interfering with his sight.

“I’m fine,” Darius says and hopes it comes out stronger than he feels. By the look of irritation on Liam’s face, it hasn’t worked. Before he knows it, Liam is pulling him in the other direction down the hallway, carefully supporting him so that he doesn’t put too much weight on his ankle. He pays some attention to where they’re going but finds himself more focused on who they might run across. They don’t run into anyone though, not from the spot where Liam found in him the hallway to when they step foot from the elevator into the main room of the Treehouse.

He tries arguing for the couch, but Liam ignores him. Darius expects some argument. He’s even willing to give in after a little debate, just to put up appearances, but Liam doesn’t even give him that. Instead, he finds himself pulled into his bedroom and swiftly deposited on the bed. Without comment, Liam goes to the bathroom to get the first aid kit he keeps there.

“I’m going to start with that burn on your arm.” Liam sets the kit on the bed, grabbing out a pair of gloves.

“That’s a minor burn,” Darius says. Liam ignores him and unbuttons the shirt sleeve before rolling it up once he has the gloves on. Darius pulls his arms away, wincing as Liam’s fingers touch the burn. He expects chastisement, a sigh, or maybe even a growl of frustration, but Liam reaches out and takes the arm back, hand firmly gripping his wrist to hold it in place.

“Liam, it’s fine.”

“It’s starting to blister, but it doesn’t look to be serious enough to need the ER. There is some bleeding though.” Liam pulls Darius to his feet and into the bathroom. At this point, confusion leaves Darius in silence. He lets Liam tend to his wounds. The burn is washed and dried carefully, then wrapped in gauze to protect it and keep it clean. Liam prods his ribs, carefully and precisely. There’s nothing broken, but the bruises are beginning to form. The ankle is sprained, swelling already, so Liam makes Darius sit back on the bed, a pillow behind his back to keep the headboard from digging in. The other couple pillows are put beneath his ankle and, over top, an ice pack to bring down the swelling.

“That’s it, Darius,” Liam says, tone still business, stand-offish almost, as he puts everything back in the kit and tosses out the trash. “I’ll be out in the main room if you need anything. I’d leave you be but that ice pack needs to be switched out regularly to keep the swelling down.”

“Liam, wait,” Darius says as the younger man heads towards the bedroom door. He stops, turning slightly, but not all the way. Still, Darius sees the same detached look.

“Do you need something, Darius,” Liam asks.

“Yes. I need to know what’s going on.” Frustration makes his voice rise.

“I treated your injuries. That’s all.”

“I know that, but what… what’s with you?”

“What’s with me?” Exasperation with a touch of disbelief are the first emotions he sees from Liam since the man found him nearly an hour ago in the hallway.

“Yes, you’re acting strange and distant.”

“Strange and distant?” Liam turns, crossing his arms as he nods. Darius recognizes his contemplative face. Something is brewing and it’s managed to unsettled Darius’ stomach. “I’m acting strange and distant? Do you mean strange and distant like a co-worker, an employee?”

“Co-worker? Employee? Where’ve you gotten that idea? You’re not an employee.”

“What am I then, Darius?” There’s questioning in Liam’s voice and his eyes when he looks at Darius.

“A friend. My friend, of course. You know that, don’t you.” The words are uncomfortable coming from him, not because they’re not genuine, but because it’s emotions. He’s never been good at expressing how he feels. He wasn’t taught to be and experience has only shown that it’s a bad idea. He’s trying though, he really is, though apparently not enough.

“No, I don’t know that, Darius.” Liam takes a few steps forward, moving closer to the bed. “I saw you get hurt. I saw that small explosion. I thought you might’ve come to me, to your friend for help, but you scurried off. You went into hiding to avoid me. And it’s not just this once. Every single time, Darius. Every time you need help, you run away from your friends. You hide from us until the situation is so dire that you can’t ask. If I’m your friend, if we’re your friends, then you have to trust us to help you.”

“I know,” Darius says, sighing heavily. “I know and I’m trying but it’s not easy. Friends, true friends are not the norm for me.”

“I understand that, but you do trust us, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then, you have to start letting us help. Come to us when you’re hurt instead of running away to deal with it yourself.”

“I’ll try harder but please try to understand that this is breaking years of training and reinforcement. It’s not going to happen overnight.”

“I don’t expect it to, but you have to understand that as your friends we care about you and we don’t like seeing you suffer. You’re not bothering us by coming to us. You bother us by hiding.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay. I understand and I’ll try harder.”

“Okay? That’s it.”

“I don’t know what more I could say. They’re just words. The proof will be in the actions, Liam. And I’ll work to keep in mind that I need to ask for help more often.”

“Okay.” Liam exhales lightly as the conversation comes to a sudden close. “Let me know if you need anything, then,” he says, turning again to leave the room.

“I could… um… use some ibuprofen, if you don’t mind.”

“Ibuprofen. Yeah, sure. Just a minute.”

“Oh, and do I have to stay in here now that we’ve worked out this issue,” Darius asks with a smile. Liam wonders if he’s unleashed a monster, but he holds back his frustration. He needs to encourage this asking, these requests for things that Darius doesn’t normally ask for.

“No, you don’t. Why don’t I help you out to the couch and then once you’re set up there, I’ll get the ibuprofen and we can watch some TV. I’ll even let you pick what we watch.”

“Deal. Now, help me up, please.”

Liam moves quickly as Darius is already pushing himself to the edge of the bed. Yep, he’s created a monster, but he’ll take this Darius over the one who scurries off to deal with his injuries alone.


End file.
